


All The Pieces Fall Apart

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Advice, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Backrubs, Bartenders, Birthday, Birthday Party, Birthday Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Boys Kissing, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Condoms, Consensual Underage Sex, Conversations, Crossdressing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drag Queens, Dress Up, Drunkenness, Exams, Falling In Love, Family, Fingerfucking, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Gay Bar, Gay Sex, Graduation, Grinding, Hangover, High School, IKEA Furniture, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Karaoke, Kissing, Leaving Home, Loss of Virginity, Love, Lube, M/M, Makeup, Making Out, Masturbation, Motorcycles, Neighbors, Oral Sex, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Underage Sex, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reading, Rimming, Romance, Running Away, School Dances, Secrets, Self-Discovery, Sexual Inexperience, Sexual Violence, Sexuality, Snogging, Studying, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teen Years, Teenagers, Underage Drinking, Vibrators, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 23:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 49,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3955255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mark gets a new neighbour, he thinks he's finally found love, and a distraction from his final exams.  But Nicky has a complicated past, and too many secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mark was bored out of his fucking mind.

It wasn't hard to do. Being bored out of his fucking mind seemed to be more or less a constant thing these days, as his leaving exams got closer and closer and the studying seemed to take over more of his life. Class. Practice exams. Home. Study. If he was lucky he could fit dinner in there somewhere, but half the time it was just his mother shoving a plate across his textbook so he'd remember that food did in fact exist.

He was eating a sandwich with one hand now, poring over a History text with the other and trying to remember dates that danced wildly on the page and didn't seem to make any sense. He couldn't tell if it said 1827 or 1278 any more. It might even say 2178, honestly, though at least if that was true he'd be ninety-eight years old and wouldn't have to try to memorise these dates any longer.

He rested his face on the page, using his free hand to fold the other page up so he could read it, shoving half the sandwich in his mouth and trying not to fall asleep. He'd used his textbooks as pillows more than his actual pillow in the last few weeks.

It was still light out, but it was getting late, the summer sun hanging around for longer every night. His parents were downstairs eating dinner with his brothers. A cup of tea had gone cold on his desk over an hour ago, and he was trying to figure out if he could somehow absorb facts just by highlighting them.

He heard a slow, puttering roar go past outside. It was loud, for this time of night, and he allowed it to distract him for a moment, standing up and going to the window to look.

It was a motorcycle. A low silver and black Kawasaki, compact and sleek. The rider on top was dressed entirely in black leather, the head bowed over the handlebars covered in a black helmet with a mirrored visor over the face. He watched it swing into the driveway of the house opposite theirs and park near a tree.

The house had been unoccupied for a while. It was quite small, for the area, with much less land than the other properties on the street. They were out in the sticks a bit here, Sligo town almost fifteen minutes away by car. The house across from theirs was sort of crammed between two other farming properties, with not much land of its own but a large backyard fenced in with uneven pickets. It sort of didn't fit, had been left to have its paint peel and its windows get filthier for about two years now.

He thought maybe the rider had made a wrong turn, was just stopping to check a map or something, but then the roar of the bike died down, choked to a stop, and the occupant climbed off, unclipping his helmet.

It was a boy not much older than himself, Mark realised. It was hard to see from a distance, but he was short, slim, with blonde hair that was shaggy and curling in his neck, looking a little ginger in the late-afternoon sun. He looked around himself, digging in his pocket and pulling out a set of keys, and Mark saw pouting lips that seemed to quirk naturally into a smirk. He started to head towards the front door of the house, fiddling with the keys as he went. As Mark watched, he went inside and closed the door.

Huh.

He went back to his desk now that the intrigue had exhausted itself. Someone must finally be moving in. He looked awfully young, though, to be buying a place like that. Not that it was probably an expensive house, this far out of town and with no land to speak of. You couldn't farm it, it was sort of falling apart. Though maybe he had a young family or something, wanted a starter home. Mark didn't recognise him, but then he didn't know that many people. He let the textbook drag him back in, feeling less like he was being absorbed and more like he was being weighted down.

He needed this, though. Needed good grades so he could get himself out of his small town and go to a city. Somewhere no one knew him. Somewhere he could be himself. It wasn't that he was ashamed, far from it, but this wasn't exactly the place to be out and proud. His parents knew, were supportive enough and concerned for his well-being. His mother kept buying him embarrassing books with way too many pictures, but he appreciated the thought. He'd never minded being gay, it just wasn't something he took out in public.

He couldn't even tell his brothers really. Not because he thought they'd mind, but at that age it was hard to know how well they'd be able to keep a secret and too much stress to allow them to try. He thought maybe he'd say something soon, but without having someone to come out with it seemed a bit pointless. It was just a thing he felt, not a thing that he was doing, and without purpose why bring that sort of drama on yourself?

So he kept his head down, tried to study, tried to avoid the kind of people that would beat the crap out of him if they even suspected, and counted down the days until he could get himself into college or something, meet a nice boy, meet a few bad ones, probably, which sounded like a lot of fun as well, in a way that was far more tangible than wanking off over football magazines.

He was stolen from his thoughts by his mother's voice. It wasn't a bad thing, really. He'd gone over the thoughts so often in his head it felt like almost second nature, was just a distraction from trying to study. Which he needed to do. Because he needed to get the fuck out of here.

“Mark! Come meet our new neighbour!”

He stood, glad for the distraction, and ran fingers through his hair to straighten it so his mother couldn't get annoyed at him for being scruffy in public, then stumbled down the stairs, his legs a bit cramped from being shoved behind a chair for hours.

“Sorry, this is our eldest, Mark.”

“Hey.” He was still wearing the leather jacket, but had switched into a pair of pale blue jeans. Mark almost couldn't figure out what to say. The guy was cute. Blue eyes, which Mark hadn't been able to see from a distance, sparkling slightly over that welcoming smirk he'd detected. A hand reached out for his. “Nicky.”

He shook it, feeling a warm palm press into his, fingers curling into his grip and squeezing firmly.

Mark's tongue felt dry. His hand was let go, and he felt the caress tingle on his palm. He swallowed.

“Nicky's moved in across the street.”

“Oh... cool.” He didn't know what to say to that. Got a smile, though..

“Hey. Sorry to intrude on dinner.” Nicky's voice was sweet, slightly hoarse. “It's just I don't have any tools yet, so...”

“No, of course...” His father motioned to him, leading him through into the kitchen. His brothers were still at the table. Mark followed, not able to help himself. It was a good view. He reached into the bottom drawer, rummaging until he found a wrench. “This do you okay?”  
  
“Perfect, thanks.” He took it, hefting it slightly in his hand. “It'd be fine, but I don't want to turn the tap on and flood the place, you know?” He laughed slightly. “I've got the plumber coming tomorrow, so...”

“It's fine. Anything you need.” His mother nodded.

“You need any help?” His dad added.

“I'll figure it out.” Nicky laughed. “It's a bit more of a fixer upper than I expected, to be honest. Needs a good coat of paint, a few new windows. Should probably rip the carpets up, but I guess that can wait.” He shrugged. “Gotta start somewhere, I suppose. Not having the kitchen full of water will definitely help.”

“I'd think so.” His dad laughed. Mark realised he hadn't spoken since they'd been introduced. Nicky had glanced at him once or twice though. “You ever done that sort of stuff before?”

“Not really, no.” The blonde ran his fingers through his hair, laughing a little bashfully. “I can probably swing a hammer without hitting my thumb nine times out of ten, but...” He hefted the wrench again. “Anyway, cheers.”

“No problem.” Mark's dad reached into his pocket, handed Nicky a card. “Here. I'm in the building trade, so if you need a hand, or want me to hook you up with something...”

“Oh grand.” Nicky studied the card. “I really appreciate it, thanks.” He reached out, shaking Mark's father's hand. “I'll take you up on it for sure. I honestly have no idea what I'm doing.” A soft, self-conscious laugh tripped off his lips, low and husky. “Seemed a bright idea, you know? Cheap house, all that.”

“You're awfully young to be doing all that by yourself.” Mark's mother had that fussy look on her face she got when one of his brothers got a scrape on his knee.

“That's what they tell me.” The blonde shrugged. “I'll be nineteen in October.”

“Nineteen? You're barely older than our Mark. He's to turn seventeen in a few months.” His father's hand fell on his shoulder, squeezing. “What you doing out here all by yourself, then?”

“Dunno, to be honest.” Nicky chuckled. “Needed a change from Dublin, so I just got on my bike and started riding, ended up stopping in the hotel here for a few days when it broke down and by the time I got it fixed I figured this place seemed as good as any other, so I checked the listings. My grandfather left a bit of money, so I thought even if it's not for me I could fix it up, sell it on.” He laughed softly. “It's quiet. I could use a bit of quiet.”

“Couldn't we all.” Mark got a meaningful look from his mother, rolled his eyes in response. Nicky smirked.

“I'll get out of your hair. I'm sure you want to finish dinner...” He reached out, shaking hands again. “Cheers, Oliver. I'll give you a call tomorrow, if that's alright? Maybe you can come over and take a look? I'll pay you, of course...”  
  
“Ah, first look's free. Professional curiosity.” His dad laughed. He did like a project, was always snooping around at other people's houses and giving unwanted advice. Nicky was probably like winning the lottery. He'd been complaining about that house since before the last owners had moved out, and Mark could tell he was itching to get stuck into it.

“Marie.” He nodded. “Mark. Nice meeting you. And thanks.”

He was gone a moment later.

Mark went back to his room to study, grabbing another cup of tea on the way. By the time it went cold again, the lights were flicking on across the street, spilling out into the encroaching darkness. Mark leaned his chin on the windowsill, watching a silhouette move across the top floor.

Nicky, huh?

Well, his football magazines had gotten a lot less interesting.

 

*

 

“Where you been?” Mark yawned. He was leant against a tree out on the grass, textbooks stacked up around his feet. He'd been waiting for more than half an hour, getting less and less interested in wasting his time when he was supposed to be studying.

“Sorry, detention.” Kian dumped his bag onto the ground. It sounded almost as heavy as Mark's felt. “Fucking Bennett busted me talking in class again. Bastard.”

“You could stop talking in class?”

“Amanda Garry was telling me her parents won't be home this weekend.” Kian shrugged. “I was all ears, to be honest.”

“Priorities.” Mark laughed. Kian smirked, digging in his bag. “Right. Maths.”

“I hate maths.” Kian flopped backwards onto the grass. “It's shit.”

“It's compulsory.” Mark argued.

“It's boring.” Kian opened the text, holding it above his head. “What are we doing?”

“Quadratic functions.” Mark didn't know why he bothered trying to study with Kian. They'd been friends for ages, yeah, but that was half the problem. They'd end up getting distracted, having a laugh, and suddenly two hours had passed and all they'd managed to learn was how many times Kian could bounce a tin can on his knee. He flopped down beside his friend, knowing it was a bad idea to be getting caught in his web, and peered up at the open pages. “Page seventy-five.”

“Right...” Kian began to flick through. “There we go. Cram some knowledge in my head.”

“Okay...” Mark sat up, grabbing a notebook and pen. “If _a_ does not equal zero, then...”

“Are you hungry? I'm hungry.” Kian interrupted. “You wanna go get food?”

“We're supposed to be studying.” Mark tapped his pen on the page.

“I can't concentrate. I haven't eaten.” Kian argued. “Let's go to the Carlton. Maybe Shane can give us free chips.”

Mark sighed. It would be good to see Shane. They'd hardly seen him since he'd gone to university, he was always in classes or studying. He still lived in town, but it was harder to make time to see him when they'd been so used to hanging out on lunchbreaks at school or mucking around at musicals and that. He never had time for that stuff any more, and Mark sort of missed him, though Shane had always been closer to Kian.

“We have to study once we get there.” Mark glared. As though it would make any difference. Kian was already standing up, shoving all his stuff back in his bag. Mark stood too, following.

He wasn't sure when he'd developed this inconvenient crush on Kian. It wasn't that he was madly in love with him or anything, or pining, or doing anything stupid and girly like that. It was just that Kian was reasonably attractive, a good laugh, and Mark sort of wanted to snog him. He'd seen him naked, too, which really hadn't helped things, though the point that helped the least was the fact that Kian was painfully, untouchably straight. It was idiotic, but Mark let himself do stupid things for Kian. For Kian's friendship, as well, but he did wonder whether he'd be home studying properly instead of wasting time like this if he didn't sort of want to stare at Kian's arse for a bit longer.

He had considered mentioning something to Kian in the past about his sexuality. He supposed they were best friends to a certain degree, as far as neither of them had any better friends, but he couldn't say he trusted Kian quite that far. Maybe it was that before they'd become friends Kian had been one of the idiots making fun of him. Not in such a supremely callous way as the other boys, but in the way where he didn't exactly step in and stop them.

By the time they got to the Carlton and organised food, there wasn't much point even trying to study which Mark suspected was maybe the idea. They drank milkshakes, had some chips that Shane grudgingly snuck their way, and by the time they had a bit of a chat it was time to go home. Kian gave him a lift, the ancient Ford puttering along towards his house.

“Ooh, there's someone moved in to the shithole.” Kian pointed. Nicky was stood out the front, carrying a hammer. Mark's dad was nowhere to be seen, but Mark recognised a few familiar faces from his crew wandering around. Obviously the project was underway already. His dad had probably leapt at it the moment Nicky had called.

“Yeah. New guy.” Mark nodded, not wanting to say too much when he was trying not to focus on the fact that Nicky had stripped down to a white vest and baggy denim shorts, his hair slicked back with sweat. He was laughing with one of the guys. Kian didn't seem that interested anyway, and he was let out of the car a moment later, wandering down to very casually check things out.

“Hey.” Nicky grinned, leaning against the side of the house. Mark nodded, looking up. Half the peeling paint had been sandblasted off, and he could hear hammering from inside. “What's up?”

“Just having a look.” Mark shrugged. “On my way home, thought I'd say hi to dad.”

“School okay?”

“Fine. It's school.” Mark shrugged, feeling a little like he'd been reminded of how young he was. Hair was starting to flop into Nicky's eyes and he raked it back, blue eyes smiling.

“Your dad said you were doing leaving cert. You sick of it yet?”

“God, yes.” He wondered what else his dad had said. Nicky chuckled. “I just want it to be done so I can get the hell out of here.”

“You don't like Sligo?” Nicky asked. “Have I made a poor decision moving here?”

“No, I love Sligo, it's just...” Mark sighed. “I don't know. I've been here my whole life, you know? I've never even been to Dublin.”

“It's not that great.” Nicky shrugged. “Not a huge loss.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Mark looked up at the house. A few windows were out, but he could see new glass being pressed into the holes. It was probably easier for Nicky, he'd actually been places to be blasé about. All Mark knew was sheep and cows, and idiot country kids with the emotional maturity of the pitchforks they were holding. “How's it all going?”

“Not bad.” Nicky nodded. “Honestly, your dad's been a godsend. I don't think I would have gotten all this done this fast. I keep saying thank-you, but...” He hefted the hammer he was still holding. “If you could say it another thousand times for me, that'd be fantastic.” He chuckled. “I might say differently once I get the bill, I think.”

“I think he's a bit excited too, to be honest.” Mark laughed. “He's been wanting to get his hands on this place for years. He's always complaining about how shit it looks.”

“Well, I appreciate it anyway.” Nicky chuckled. Mark knew he should probably be headed back to his own house. He'd achieved next to nothing that day, and really needed to get a start on studying. His dad was rounding the corner now, would probably want to know what he was doing here, but it was sort of hard to leave when there was a really gorgeous guy standing in front of him in an almost see-through white vest. Mark picked up a screwdriver off the ground, trying to look useful. It didn't really work.

“Mark, why are you mucking about?”

“My fault, Oliver.” Nicky laughed, sexy smirk on full display. “Started chatting.”

“Well, if you're staying you can go get us coffee.” Mark groaned, crossing his arms. “Black and two, Markus. Thanks. Nicky, you want one?”

“Sounds grand, thanks.” Nicky laughed. “Tea please. White with three.”

“I have studying to do...”

“Then why are standing around here?” His dad raised an eyebrow. “Do a run around, lad. See if the others want something. We've got the water turned off while Neil does the pipes in the kitchen, so we've not had a cuppa in hours.”

He ran back to the house, got the kettle on, then started doing tea runs. By the time everyone was taken care of it was starting to get dark and he slumped up to his bedroom to study. He could hear banging and hammering through the window, and once or twice heard a loud, hoarse laugh that shivered up his spine. Or rather, down it. His dad came home an hour or so later, the crew's trucks starting to roar off down the drive and away. When he looked out the window there was just a light upstairs, a silhouette against the curtain. As he watched, Nicky crossed his arms, tugging his top off over his head, hands fumbling at his belt then bending a little. Mark couldn't see much of anything specific, but he still watched Nicky stretch, gripping his elbows above his head, torso pulled taut. Then he moved out of view, the light clicking off again a minute later.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday dawned overcast and drizzling with pathetic rain. Mark let himself sleep in way too long before slouching downstairs at almost lunch.

“Morning.”  
  
“Um... hi.” Mark swallowed, realising with a blush that there was a cute boy in his living room while he stood at the bottom of the stairs in his Bart Simpson boxer shorts and a baggy t-shirt with holes in it. His knees felt very exposed all of a sudden. “Sorry. Didn't realise...”  
  
“It's cool. Your dad asked if I wanted breakfast before we got started.” Nicky was reading the sports page, was wearing the same pair of denim shorts, though they were splattered with paint now. He looked carefree and sweet, his hair clean and curling a bit at the end. “He's grabbing some tools and stuff. You want to come? We're going to buy paint.”

“That sounds fascinating.” Mark joked, trying to figure out how best to hide himself without making it too obvious. “I'll um... go shower.”

 

*

 

Nicky was funny. He hadn't expected that at all. He was cute, yeah, and friendly, but before long Mark found himself laughing hard, sat in the backseat while Nicky kept pointing out things they were passing, telling stupid jokes and making the kinds of terrible puns that shouldn't have been allowed to be said by anyone under fifty. He was unapologetic about it, too, was talking a mile a minute about everything, asking questions. And he was inclusive, kept involving Mark in the conversation even though he felt a bit like a little kid, sat in the backseat while the grown-ups talked.

His dad wandered off at the hardware store to talk to some work friends, and Mark and Nicky ended up in the paint aisle, looking at colour samples.

“So um... what's Dublin like?” Mark asked. Nicky looked away from the two yellow swatches he was holding up, smiling.

“I don't know. It's okay.” He shrugged. “Do I want butter yellow or corn yellow for my kitchen?”

“I don't know. What's the difference?”

“Not a clue.” Nicky admitted, putting them both back. “Dublin is... it's crowded. Noisy. You're always walking distance to somewhere, you know? Like there's lots of shops and clothes and stuff.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It is.” Nicky nodded. “I had a job at a fancy clothes store for a little while, just selling people shirts and that, but it was a lot of fun. You'd meet loads of people, and there was always somewhere to go for a pint with your mates.”

“Not much in the way of fancy clothes here.” Mark laughed. “I'm just lucky I'm the oldest. Barry and Colin are both on hand-me-downs.”

“Ah, you look fine.” Nicky laughed. “Jeans. T-shirt. Simple.” He glanced at Mark. “I just have to figure out what to do for fun around here. Don't suppose you know the best place to get drunk.”

“A lot of people go to Equinox. They have under eighteens things there sometimes.” He pursed his lips. “You could go to the pub, I guess, but it's mostly old men bitching about their wives.”

“Can't join in that one.” Nicky joked. “I'll have to make one up.”

“No girlfriend?”

“No.” Nicky shook his head, picking up two almost identical blue swatches. “Not for a long time.” He glanced at Mark. “My fake wife would probably just get jealous.”

“Bitch.” Mark agreed. “Doesn't want her fella having a good time.”

“I know. Slavedriver.” Nicky rolled his eyes. “How about you? You got a girlfriend?”

“No. Can't say I do.” Mark picked up another blue one. “This is nice. Is this for the kitchen?”

“Bedroom.” Nicky took it, holding it up to the other two. “It's this hideous salmon and green at the moment. I swear no-one's decorated since the seventies.” He glanced at Mark. “Can I ask a really personal question?”

“Erm...” Mark was taken a bit aback. He felt himself flush a little bit and wasn't sure why. “Can I choose not to answer it?”  
  
“Definitely.” Mark shrugged, nodding. Nicky leaned in a little bit closer, lowering his voice. “You're gay, aren't you?”

“Um...” He blinked in surprise. Nicky pulled away a little bit, continuing down the aisle like nothing had happened. Mark followed blankly, not sure what to say.

“Why... do you ask?”

“Just had a feeling.” Nicky shrugged. “Don't take it personally, okay? I've always had a bit of a touch for it. Not always a hundred percent correct, but close enough.” He glanced back over at Mark. “Even if you are, you can say no. I'm not judging. Just interested.”

“Oh.” Mark bit his lip, moving a little closer. Nicky was so nonchalant about it, almost as if it wasn't even a bit deal. He was just running his finger along the line of paint samples as though they were having an ordinary, boring conversation. “Uh... only my parents know.” He felt his face heat as he let the words out. It was weird, saying it out loud. He'd only had to say it once to his parents, and then it sort of hadn't been mentioned again. They'd just changed up a few pronouns and settled back into normal. He hadn't had any girlfriends, anyway, so it wasn't much of a change to not having any boyfriends.

“So no boyfriend, then?” Nicky asked. Mark looked around, checking there was no-one in earshot, but Nicky was talking quietly, casually, and the place was basically deserted.

“No.” Mark sighed. “There's a lad I like at school, but he's not...”

“Oh, that's the worst.” Nicky chuckled. “Been there.”

“You're...?”

“Oh, half and half.” Nicky laughed, nudging him lightly. Mark felt warmth bleed into the spot where he'd been touched. Nicky was gay. Well, bi, apparently. Oh. That was...

Well, no, because Nicky was still insanely out of his league.

Still...

“Are you with, like... anyone?”

“Just my fake wife.” Nicky crouched down, running his finger along a row of spraypaint. “Getting the feeling there's not much of a scene here.”

“Not really.” Mark once again wondered why Nicky had even come to Sligo. He seemed so outside it all, coming from Dublin on his slick motorcycle with his cool leather jacket and ripped jeans. He didn't seem like he belonged here at all. “Is there in Dublin?”

“A bit.” Nicky nodded. “I mean, you still get the phobic arseholes chucking bottles at you and that, but at least there's a few good clubs.”

“I don't even think there's any gay people here, apart from me.”

“I think you'd be surprised.” Nicky smirked, standing up. He looked around. The place was starting to get a little bit busier now, all the weekend DIY people showing up. “Her.” He pointed at a young woman in a pink sundress looking at paintbrushes. “Bet you a fiver she's a lesbian.”

“That's Miss Hanover.” Mark whispered. “She works in the school office.”

“And she eats muff like you wouldn't believe.” Nicky snickered, elbowing him slightly. Mark covered his mouth to hide a snort. “Oh, and that guy.” He gestured at an elderly man shopping for powertools. “Definitely gay.”

“That's Eric Gilson.” Mark was shocked. “He's friends with my grandfather. His wife died last year. He was devastated.”

“That's awful.” Nicky nodded sympathetically. “I bet she was really nice, too, but that doesn't mean he's not secretly interested in something else.”

“He's got grandkids!”

“And?” Nicky rolled his eyes. “It's sex. Sometimes you try a few things until you find something you like.”

“I don't like girls.”

“Then you've got the hard part taken care of.” A hand slapped him on the back, friendly. “Seriously, it takes a lot of people way too long to figure that out. You've saved yourself a lot of time. That generation...” He nodded toward Eric, who was looking at an electric drill. “It's awful, but I reckon for some of them it's too late. You get too used to accepting things a certain way, you almost convince yourself that it's right. He'll never say anything, not now.”

“You're sure? That he's...”

“Sure enough.” Nicky paused suddenly, then began to move back the other way, putting his hand on Mark's shoulder to get past him in the cramped aisle. Mark felt a tingle start in his toes when he felt a slender body press to his. “You'll be fine. You're cute.”

Mark laughed, feeling himself turn red. “Erm... I've seen a mirror.”

“So you agree, then?” Nicky picked up the blue swatches again. “I reckon this one's a winner, don't you? Lagoon mist. Crap name, but I like the colour.”

“It's nice.” Mark nodded. “I'm cute?”

“You're very cute.” Nicky chuckled, heading back towards the yellows. “Tall, dark and handsome.”

“Funny.” He snorted awkwardly, looking around for something to distract the conversation. Staring at masking tape was not a good plan, but he went with it anyway, not knowing what else to do.

“Believe what you like.” Nicky shrugged. “If I saw you in a nightclub, though, I'd definitely try it on.”

“I'm sixteen.”

“That's why I'm not trying it on.” Nicky snorted. “I'm not an idiot. I'm not chatting you up, either, if you're wondering, I'm just saying don't worry. You're gonna be fine.” He winked. “You're gonna have a lot of fun.”

 

*

 

Mark lay on his bed, staring at the textbook on his lap.

The hammering and sawing from across the road had become the soundtrack of his life for the past two weeks. From the moment he came home from school, there it was in the background. All weekend, too. He'd though about shutting the window, but then he might miss the chance to hear one of Nicky's laughs.

He laughed well, loud and long, as though he wanted to share whatever had tickled him with the whole world, his voice easily audible from across the street. It was the kind of laugh that made you want to laugh along. So Mark did.

He focused back on the textbook, the words dancing in front of his eyes to the tune of Nicky's laughter. It was no use, though, so he stood up and looked out the window, trying to spot familiar blonde hair.

There he was, wearing too-tight jeans and a black t-shirt turned half grey by plaster dust, standing chatting to one of the guys. Mark stared for a minute, admiring him. He was cute, obviously, but he had a way of moving, a confidence, that was distractingly sexy. He hadn't even really been bothered to ogle Kian in the last two weeks, not while he knew he was heading home to surreptitiously check out Nicky.

He'd tried not to be too obvious, but it was difficult when he was the constant topic of conversation, and Mark hung on boring news of ripping up pipes and re-shingling the roof, hoping for a story of something Nicky had said or done.

And maybe, once or twice, he'd laid back on his bed and thought about what it would be like. To kiss Nicky, touch him. What he would like like naked. Lain under Mark and kissing him hard, clawing at his back, sweaty and desperate, moaning in his ear.

And Mark had wiped the mess up with a tissue and gone to sleep with nothing but good dreams.

As he watched, Nicky paused, looked up, and waved. Mark waved back, laughing when he was given a cheeky grin.

“What you doing?”

Mark shrugged. Nicky laughed.

“You gonna help, or you gonna watch the rest of us work?”

“I'm studying!” Mark called back. “I'm very busy.”

“I can see that.” Nicky laughed, ambling across the road. Before Mark knew it he was stood beneath his window, looking up. “What are you studying?”

“Ehm... maths.”

“How is it?”

“Boring.” Mark leaned over so he could see Nicky better, got a sexy smirk. “What are you doing?”

“Looking busy while everyone else does important grown up things. If you come over I'll let you pretend to hold a spirit level.”

“What will you pretend to do?”

“I was going to pretend to hold the other end.” Nicky laughed. “We're about to break for lunch, anyway. If you pretend to work you might get free food.”

“What kind of free food?”

“I dunno. I was going to go get fish and chips. You wanna come for a ride?”

Mark was nodding before he'd even thought about it.

“Give me two minutes to put on pants.”

“You're not wearing pants? Pervert.” Nicky laughed, turning away. Mark felt himself blush and looked down at his pyjama bottoms.

“I'm wearing pyjamas.” He called out, feeling like a moron. Nicky waved over his shoulder, heading back across the street.

 

*

 

“This is a great album.” Nicky held up a Boyzone CD. They'd stopped at the Record Room on the way to the Carlton Cafe, the street had been too crowded to get a park close by, and Nicky had seen the sign and wanted to go in to check out some CDs. “You heard it?”

“Yeah, it's good.” Mark nodded. “I sort of got sick of it last year. My friend Shane played it about a thousand times.”

“We have that in common.” Nicky put A Different Beat back in the rack. “What have you been listening to?”

“Um... I've been listening to a lot of Jagged Little Pill. You know, Alanis Morissette's album? Michael Jackson's HIStory. The Fugees latest one. Mariah Carey's supposed to have a new one coming out in a couple of months, so I'm looking forward to that. My dad has a lot of really cool old vinyls.”

“He was saying. I'll have to check them out.” Nicky nodded. “You like music?”

“Yeah.” Mark nodded. “I was in a couple of the musicals, you know? We did Grease a couple of times.”

“Yeah? Who'd you play?”

“I was just in the chorus the first time, it was years ago. But I was Teen Angel last year.”

“No way!” Nicky looked surprised. “What, like Beauty School Dropout?”

“Yeah.” Mark nodded. “The girl who played Frenchie was a good laugh. She kept pulling faces at me while I was trying to sing it.” Nicky snorted a laugh. “It was fun.”

“That's a big song. You must be good.”

“I'm okay.” Mark shrugged. He knew he was, but always felt a bit weird admitting it, like he was bragging. “Shane and Kian were the T-Birds. It was a lot of fun. We sort of talked about doing it proper, you know? Like trying to be a boyband or something? But then Shane went off to college, so there wasn't really much time.”

“You'd be good in a boyband. The girls could fall all over you.”

“Gross.” Mark joked. Nicky laughed, elbowing him. “No. I can't dance, can I? You have to be able to dance to be in a boyband. Like the Backstreet Boys. I'd fall all over myself.”

“Boyzone don't dance.” Nicky pointed out. “You know Ronan Keating used to work at a shoe shop down the road from me?”

“No way.” Mark looked over, surprised. “Did you meet him?”

“Probably. Korky's. I bought a few pairs in there when I was in high school, just school shoes or whatever. You never remember what the lad at the counter looks like, do you? Then he's famous and my mam's like 'oh, he sold us a pair of trainers that time' and I was like 'what the hell are you talking about?'” He laughed. “Bit mental.”

“Shit, that's crazy.” Mark whistled. “I don't think I've ever met anyone famous.”

“Well, I've met Ronan Keating and the lad who played Teen Angel in Grease.” Nicky grinned. “Two for two, I'd say.”

“I'll give you an autograph.” Mark rolled his eyes, rummaging through the clearance table. There wasn't much of interest. “You'll meet Danny Zuko in a minute, if we ever make it to the Carlton. Shane's usually waiting tables, when he's not in classes. He wants to be an accountant.”

“Danny wouldn't approve of that at all.” Nicky started at the other end, beginning to flick through older CDs.

“Probably not.” Mark agreed. “If that's what being an adult's like, I can't say I'm all that interested.”

“You mean being allowed to drink, smoke, go to the best concerts, get into clubs...”

“I'm allowed to have sex, I suppose.” Mark pointed out. “That's something.”

“Only with girls. You're still not legal with lads. Seventeen. Are you having any, though?”

“Nope.” Mark sighed. “Which I wouldn't mind, but bloody Kian's getting handies in his car every other weekend.”

“He sounds classy.” Nicky rolled his eyes. “God, I can't remember the last time I had a handy in car.”

“How many have you had?”

“Erm...” Nicky looked up at the ceiling for a long minute. “Three. No, four!” He shook his head, laughing. “Forgot about that one.”

“What, all with lads?”

“Erm... three of them, yeah.” They gave up on the table and began to head for the door, falling wordlessly into step. The street outside was warm and crowded. Mark glanced around, feeling a little self-conscious at having this conversation in public. “I was a bit of an early bloomer.”

“How old...?”

“I think I was fourteen when I first got off with another lad. Just some camping trip at school. You're all squashed up in a tent, you know, close quarters. Neither of us mentioned it after, but it was fun. With a lass... fifteen? I think? I don't mind girls, but I'd pick a boy if I had the choice.”

Mark shook his head, not sure what to say. He couldn't even imagine trying it at that age, wouldn't have had the guts. He didn't really have the guts now, though, so it was a bit of a moot point.

“You look shocked.”

“No, just...” Nicky was looking at him, blue eyes studying him carefully. “I don't know. I feel a bit of a virgin now. I mean, I am one, but...” He felt himself blush. “I've never even kissed a boy.”

“I'm not surprised.” Nicky shrugged. “I really wouldn't worry. It's not all it's cracked up to be, once you've had a bit of it, not when it's with someone you don't feel anything for. It's a hell of a lot of fun, of course, but it's better when you're in love.”

“You've been in love?”

“I've thought I was.” Nicky's lips narrowed, and his eyes went suddenly hard. Mark wanted to file away that information to consider later, but he was distracted by pushing open the door to the cafe and Nicky making a joke. Then they were ordering, he was introducing Nicky to Shane, and by the time they made it back out again he'd forgotten entirely.

 

*

 

Mark sat at his bedroom window, watching Nicky's silhouette move across the upstairs window. He'd been doing it for a while now, just watching him move back and forth. He'd given up on studying a long time ago, was sitting propped against the windowsill with his bedroom light off so he wouldn't be spotted. His parents thought he was asleep, and he had tried, but he couldn't manage it, so had gotten up to go to the bathroom, come back, and seen Nicky moving.

He wasn't doing anything interesting. Was just passing the window every now and then, moving idly through the house. Mark had seen him talking on the phone at one point, scratching his hair a bit later. The room he was in had curtains, so all he could see was a dark shadow. As he watched, it settled up on the windowsill, legs kicked up against the frame opposite, nestled in the square space. The curtains were nudged aside, and he was sat there a minute later in full view, toes dangling out of the upstairs window, a cigarette in one hand.

Mark didn't know Nicky smoked, but it seemed to fit him somehow. He looked a little sad, though, not at all the carefree certainty he usually exuded. Sort of smaller, huddled in the lonely light cutting through the dark street. He lifted the cigarette to his lips again, taking a long drag. Mark glanced at his watch. Almost one in the morning. He should really be in bed.

Nicky finished a minute later, stubbed out the smoke, then slid back inside. The lights went off, the house swallowed up by the night. Mark went back to bed and tried to sleep.

 


	3. Chapter 3

He was coming home from school on Wednesday when he heard music. The workmen were all gone for the day – his dad had other jobs and the interior of the house was basically done. Furniture had been getting delivered the last few days. He'd seen a sofa, a coffee table and a few chairs come through, as well as a new fridge. He wondered what Nicky had been doing before then, especially when he saw a bedframe come up the drive.

He paused, glancing at his watch. He was running a bit early, wasn't supposed to be home for another hour, but Kian had ended up with detention again and he'd decided not to bother hanging around waiting for him when he could get more done at home.

It was a Backstreet Boys CD, belting out of the open window. He could hear singing, and realised his feet were carrying him closer without thinking. Before he knew it he was stood at the front door, peering through the crack where it wasn't quite closed.

Nicky was stood in the front room, wearing not much more than a pair of shorts, singing along to I'll Never Break Your Heart and struggling with a set of bookshelves. They were half put together, shelves littered across the floor while he held the instructions in one hand and an Allen key in the other. He looked thoroughly perplexed, and Mark found himself laughing without meaning to.

Nicky looked up, tensing.

“Hello?”

“Sorry, just me.” Mark pushed the door open a little more, his cheeks heating at the idea he'd been caught having a look. Nicky relaxed, rolling his eyes. “Heard music.”

“Oh, yeah...” Nicky looked back down at the instructions. “What the fuck is a cam-lock?”

“It's um...” Mark had done enough of this crap with his dad over the years to have at least a basic idea. It wasn't his favourite thing, but he could definitely swing a hammer if he had to, knew the difference between about twenty kinds of screwdrivers. It was practically osmosis. He stepped in, bent to pick up a round metallic piece. “This guy.”

“That guy.” Nicky took it. “Right, so I need to join Piece A to Piece G with Screw M. Screw M...” He bent down to rummage through the litter of parts on the floor. Mark glanced at the instructions, bending down to grab it. “Thanks.” He looked at Mark. “You want to stay and help?”

“You look like you're on top of it.” Mark teased. “That's a really impressive birdhouse.”

“It's supposed to be a set of shelves.” Nicky looked defeated, then realised Mark was joking. “Ah, fuck off, ya eejit.”  
  
“You don't want help then?” Mark joked. Nicky sighed. “Yeah, I don't mind. I'm not supposed to be home for another hour anyway.”

“Cool.” Another song was starting up. Quit Playing Games With My Heart. Mark sank down onto the floor, picking up the instructions then looking at Nicky's efforts, mostly so he didn't have to look at Nicky's bare chest. He was slim, but in a wiry way that looked strong, sparse gingery hair thickening as it headed towards the top of his shorts. He glanced around the room instead. There wasn't much in here, though the smell of fresh paint was thick in the air.

“Starting to look better in here.”

“Getting there.” Nicky nodded. “Still got to put together a bed, a chest of drawers, and a TV cabinet.” He sighed. “Can't wait to have a TV again.”

“You don't have a TV?”

“No. Don't have much of anything, to be honest. Sort of just came with the clothes on my back.” He indicated the pieces of bookshelf. “I should have hired a man to help me with this, but by the time I paid for everything I was sort of running out of money. I need a job. Know anyone hiring?”

“Not off the top of my head.” Mark pursed his lips, trying to think. “I mean, there's always Burger King, but I did that and believe me, you don't want to get involved. It's all scrubbing toilets.”

“I'm not above that.” Nicky put down the wooden dowel he was looking at. “You have a job at the moment?”

“I was doing a bit of pizza delivery, but I've had to lay off with exams coming up.” He found the pieces he was looking for and began to slot them together, scooping up the Allen key as he went. “I'm broke at the moment.”

“I can pay you to help me out?” Nicky offered. “Give you a fiver an hour or something? Gave the rest of my cash to your dad, but you seem to know what you're doing there, so...”  
  
“It's just following the instructions.” Mark smacked the shelf with the heel of his palm, watched it pop into place. “There we go. Pass me one of those little screws. No, the other one.” It dropped into his hand a second later, and he began to twist it in.

“Never been good at instructions.” Nicky smirked. “Probably why everything I build falls apart.”  
  
“Maybe.” It was starting to come together now, like putting together a big, heavy jigsaw puzzle. “I'm happy to help for free. It's a bit of a distraction from everything else, at least. Studying's driving me mad, and... well, you know what parents are like. They mean well and that, but it's always the expectations and telling me not to swear and asking where I'll be and who I'm with.” He glanced shyly at Nicky. “You don't make me feel like I'm five.”

“You'd be a big five year old.” That teasing smirk flitted across Nicky's lips. “I don't know, I think I'm just terrible at being responsible. I always forget not to swear.”

“You're so fucking immature.”

Nicky chuckled. “Piss off. Anyway, you're sixteen. We're practically the same age. I'd feel stupid treating you like a kid.”

“I'd feel stupid treating you like an adult.” Nicky stuck his tongue out at that, thumbing his nose. “Definitely not an adult.”

“Definitely not.” An elbow nudged him. “Can I get you something to eat while you do that? I have a few ice-creams in the freezer if you want one?”

“Cool.” Mark nodded. It was almost together now. He just had to do the wall-bracket and fit the last couple of shelves. Nicky stood up, came back a minute later with a few wrapped chocolate ice-creams. Mark took one, unwrapping the top half but leaving the packet on around the bottom so it wouldn't drip. He took a bite, slotting dowels in with the other hand, watched Nicky lick his and tried not to feel like a pervert. Tried not to imagine what it would be like running it down the middle of that chest and licking it back off.

Before long it was done. He licked melting ice-cream off his fingers, handing Nicky the last shelf.

“Do the honours?”

“Sure.” Nicky held the shelf out. “I dub thee Shelf of Books.”

“Shelf of Books.” Mark agreed, laughing around the stick still wedged in the side of his mouth. Nicky grinned, pushing the shelf into place and giving it a slight smack for good measure. “Well done.”

“Did it all by myself.” The blonde's ice-cream was almost gone as well. He licked the last off the stick and held out a hand for Mark's wrapper. “You might have helped.”

“I won't tell.” The CD had stopped a long time ago. He glanced at his watch. “I better get going, though. My parents will expect me.”

“Definitely. Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you...”

“No, it was fun.” Mark nodded. “Want me to pop around tomorrow afternoon? We can get started on the bed. Not like that...” He rolled his eyes when Nicky gave him a cheeky smirk. “Pervert.”

“Child.” Nicky laughed, standing up. Mark stood too. “Thanks, I'd appreciate it. But don't let your schoolwork suffer, okay? It's important.”

“When am I ever going to need to use long division, though? Really?” Mark pouted, but Nicky tilted his head seriously.

“I know, but you'll regret it if you don't finish properly. Take it from someone who knows, yeah? Do your best, and if you don't need to use it... well, at least you have it if you ever do. Every opportunity helps.” He put a hand on Mark's shoulder. “Don't be a fuck-up like me.”

“How are you a fuck-up?” Mark asked. “What, the house you own, the cool motorbike? I mean, you can't do furniture, but...”

“Just trust me, okay?” Nicky's smile looked a little frayed at the edges, all of a sudden. “Life's never going to be what you think it is, so the best you can do is be prepared.” He glanced at his watch. “Now hurry up. Your mother will think you've gotten kidnapped.”

“I have. And I've been fed sweets before dinner.” Mark wiped his mouth, making sure there was no leftover chocolate on his face. Nicky laughed. “Bad influence.”  
  
“I probably am, yeah.” Nicky said quietly. He opened the door, nudging Mark through. “Now get out. I have to put books on my new shelf.”

 

*

 

It was hard, trying to explain why he couldn't study with Kian. He couldn't say he had a job, or Kian would ask where. He was trying to take his time, do one piece of furniture a day, but he was running out of jobs to do and it couldn't last much longer. There were only a few small cabinets left now. They hadn't even been productive the day before. Mark had been in a bad mood over a poor mark he'd gotten on a practice test, so they'd just ended up watching television on the couch, eating popcorn and poking fun at the commercials.

He hadn't told his parents where he was going after school, and wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because he didn't want the thousand questions, though he knew there wouldn't be anything meant by them. He just wanted something for himself, something that he could do without having to explain, having to justify. He was at Nicky's because he wanted to be, because Nicky seemed to want him there. They had a good laugh together, chilling out and putting together a chest of drawers that seemed way too big for the clothes spilling out of the suitcase Nicky was living from.

He didn't have much at all, really, hadn't been at all exaggerating when he'd said he'd arrived with the clothes on his back. Before they'd gotten the frame together, his bed had been a mattress on the floor. There were only a few books on the shelves, and they all looked brand new, barely creased or faded. It was like Nicky hadn't existed before he'd arrived, like he'd just been dropped on the planet by a spaceship.

He seemed sort of sad, though, behind all the smiles. They'd be having a perfectly fine conversation and then all of a sudden Nicky would just shut down, change the topic completely, or make an excuse to go to the bathroom or make a cup of tea, and Mark would sit there feeling confused and not sure what he'd said.

But otherwise it was easy to talk to Nicky. Easier than anyone. Nicky knew about him, didn't judge him at all. Mark could ask him questions, stuff he couldn't ask anyone without letting his secret out, and which he couldn't ask his parents without feeling totally immature and embarrassed. Not sex questions, though he thought he could probably ask those of Nicky with no problem, just life questions. Nicky would nod patiently, and then reply as though it was a totally sensible thing to ask.

So he'd leave school and go straight to Nicky's, get home at the usual time. He didn't know if Nicky realised his parents didn't know where he was, and didn't much care. He was right across the street if there was an emergency, and he didn't want to ruin this thing, felt like maybe they wouldn't understand.

“You want a coke or something?” Nicky had his feet kicked up on the arm of the couch, his head on the other one, watching him put together a small table. “I made ice.”  
  
“What, all by yourself?” Mark teased. Nicky reached out a leg, kicking him lightly, then left it on his shoulder, resting it there like Mark was a footstool. Mark turned his head to bite at it, watched it jerk back while Nicky laughed.

“Watch it, you're probably rabid.”

“Someone'd have to bite me first.” Mark squinted at the hole he was supposed to pushing the leg into. It was a bit warped, so he began to pick at it with the end of the screwdriver. “Can I ask you a really stupid question?”

“Definitely.” Nicky nodded. “I love stupid questions.”

“Is it good getting... you know.” Mark sighed. “It seems like it'd hurt.”

“Getting what?” Nicky laughed. “Come on. You're old enough to think it, you're old enough to say it.”

“Anal.” Mark said quietly, feeling his cheeks redden. “Is it okay?”

“It's fucking fantastic.” Nicky laughed, stretching slightly. Mark turned to look at him, watched muscles pull taut in slender legs. He was just wearing a singlet and a pair of baggy shorts today, looked a bit nice. For the first time, Mark had realised that there was no hair on his legs. Not a single bit. He wondered what that was all about. It was sort of hot, in an odd way. Maybe it was to do with riding his motorcycle – he knew sometimes cyclists waxed – but regardless of the reason he sort of wanted to reach out and touch, run his fingers up smooth skin and into those shorts, wrap his fingers around the soft bulge that almost always seemed to be present.

“So it doesn't hurt?”  
  
“Does a bit, I guess.” Nicky shrugged. “First time at least. But I've always found if you think it's going to hurt then it probably will. If you think it's going to be good... well, it usually is.”

“Oh.” Mark nodded. “It sounds messy.”

“It can be. I mean, you don't want to go eating a big meal right before, and it's probably worth having a scrub up so you don't get shit on someone's cock.” Mark felt himself go over redder. Nicky was so fucking blunt. He sort of appreciated it, though. It wasn't like he could look this stuff up on the school computer. “You ever stuck a finger up your arse?”

“Erm... no.” Mark admitted.

“I recommend it.” Nicky rolled onto his side, looking at him. Mark realised he hadn't touched the table since they'd started this conversation. He put down the screwdriver, giving up for the moment. “Jerk off, and just touch it. It's fucking great. Honestly. And if you can get yourself a vibrator, even better.”

“Yeah, I'll just ask someone for a borrow, shall I?” His cheeks felt burning red now, but Nicky was looking at him idly.

“You can borrow mine, if you like.” Nicky shrugged. Oh and that... that was a nice idea. His face was starting to go back to its normal colour now that all the blood was starting to move downwards. Nicky, laid on his back, slowly fucking himself, other hand tugging slowly. Jesus. “Don't look like that.” He chuckled. “It's clean and everything. Just run it under a hot tap a few times and stick a condom over it.”

“Thanks?” He said weakly. Nicky snorted, swinging his legs off the couch.

“You're welcome. Finish that off and I'll grab it for you.” His feet were pounding up the stairs a minute later. Mark turned back to the table, trying to focus around the thought of Nicky doing that to himself. He'd just finished screwing in the last leg when footsteps came back down. He looked up, smiling feebly when a small ziplock bag was pressed into his hand. “There you are.” Nicky announced, like he was just lending a CD or something. “That little guy'll be a great help. You need a condom as well?”

“Er... yes please?” Nicky nodded, wandering away again. Mark looked at the little purple device. It was about the size and width of a finger, with a silver base. Nicky came back, pressing a couple of foil packets into his hand.

“Knock yourself out.” He grinned, collapsing back on the couch. “Wash it before you give it back. That one's my favourite.”

“How many do you _have?_ ”

“A few.” Nicky laughed, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “If you don't want to stick it in, just kind of run it around the outside. It's brilliant, I promise.”

“Okay. Yeah.” He shoved it in his pocket, feeling better with it out of his view. “I finished your table.”

“Excellent.” Nicky picked it up, carried it over to the corner and set it down. “There we go.” He stood back and crossed his arms. “Very civilised.” He glanced back at Mark. “Only one left. You'll be out of my service soon, released back into the wild. Won't have to come hang out with me any more.”  
  
“Thank god.” Mark smiled, though the idea made him sad. Nicky was giving him a curious look, his face averted but eyes still looking up. “I can um... I can still come visit.”

“I'd like that.” Nicky nodded. “It's good having you around. Company, I guess, but...” He put a hand on Mark's shoulder. “Are we friends?”

“I think so.” He nodded, trying to seem casual despite the happy rush that run up him. “I hope so.”

“Me too.” He got a crooked smile. “It's been a long time since I've had friends. You know, people I can just talk to.”

“I like talking to you.” Mark said quietly. “I don't feel like an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot.” Another hand landed on his other shoulder. “You put my stuff together.”

“Give it a few weeks until it starts collapsing.” Mark scratched his hair. “It all looks fine now, but I did a shoddy job so I can fix it and you have to pay me again.”

“Speaking of...” Nicky reached into his pocket, groped out a tenner and handed it to him. “There you go. Job well done.”

“Great, thanks...” Mark hesitated. “How's the job hunt going?”  
  
“Not great.” Nicky sighed. “No interviews yet, though I think just about everyone in town has my resume by now.” He smiled, but it looked frustrated. Mark pressed the money back into his hand.

“Keep it.” He said. Nicky looked like he was about to protest, but Mark patted his pocket. “I can just borrow this as payment, yeah?”

“Mark...” Nicky sighed, then nodded, looking grateful. “Okay. Thanks.” He squeezed Mark's shoulders, let go, then ruffled his hair. “But once I get a job I'll take you out for dinner or something, okay? Pay you back?”

“Sure.” Mark promised, but he didn't mind either way. The thought of going out to dinner was nice, but he felt a bit bad taking Nicky's money when it didn't even feel like a job. It just felt like hanging out with a friend, being a bit helpful while they chattered away.

He needed to leave soon after, but when he did he patted the lump in his pocket, making sure it was still there. Nicky hugged him on the way out. Mark felt hands still tingling on his back as he made his way across the street.

 


	4. Chapter 4

It was a beautiful day, and the Carlton was packed with people. Mostly kids, getting a milkshake or a burger after school. Mark sat across from Kian, their notes spread out in front of them.

“Dis-moi, tu as fait tes devoirs?”

“Erm...” Kian began to flick through his text, looking panicked. “What?”  
  
“Did you do your homework?” He translated.

“Oh. Uh...” He swallowed. “Non?”

“I had a feeling.” Mark laughed, reaching for a handful of chips. Kian grabbed some too, popping them into his mouth. “How's your maths coming?”

“Uh... non.” Kian laughed. “You're never bloody here, are you? We always study together.”

“You could study on your own.”

“No, I get distracted and end up watching TV.”

“You get distracted _by_ the TV.”

“Same thing.” Kian shrugged. “Where you been, anyway? I haven't seen you round in weeks.”  
  
“Just helping out a friend.” He grabbed another handful of chips, being careful not to drip sauce on his notes.

“What friend? You don't have any other friends.”

“Thanks.” Mark rolled his eyes, got a teasing laugh. “No, just my dad's been helping out our new neighbour with his place, so I've been pitching in a bit, helping put together furniture and that. He pays me, so...”

“Shit, well, cokes are on you.” Kian leaned back in his seat. Mark shook his head. He honestly hadn't spent a cent of it, didn't feel right when he could see Nicky still looking for a job. He kind of wanted to hang onto it in case he had to give it back.

“Lads.” Shane was wandering over, and Kian slid across to make room in the booth. The older boy reached out and grabbed a handful of their chips. Mark thought about protesting, but Shane had cooked them so he probably owned a percentage of them or something. “Got you a present.”

“Ooh, excellent.” Kian reached out a hand and Shane pressed a small envelope into his hand. “Turn out alright?”

“Well enough for a couple of drinks.” Shane shrugged. Kian was already ripping the packet open, pulling out something that looked like a driver's license.

“Ooh, that's quite good.” Kian turned it over, then reached into the envelope and grabbed another one, handing it to Mark.

It was a driver's license, but the photo looked like the one from his school yearbook, and the birthdate pegged him as nineteen. He stared at it for a long moment, trying to make sense of it in his head.

“This is a fake I.D?”

“Say it a bit louder.” Kian hissed, glancing around like a spy in a bad TV movie. Then he relaxed, looking back at Shane. “Thanks mate. Tell your man these'll be fine.”

“He knows they will, he does the whole bloody school.” Shane laughed. He wasn't quite eighteen yet, wouldn't be until June. Mark realised his own seventeenth was coming up in about six weeks, a month after Kian's. “I've never had a problem with mine. Kept your birthdays the same, too, just in case they ask you.”

“Um... thanks.” Mark looked at his again, then shoved it in his pocket. “So... what? Go for a pint or something?”

“Out of town, I reckon.” Kian nodded. “Can't go down the road or someone'll see us. There's that place out on the N17. We could go down there, I guess. I know Colleen Tadhg's sister goes there a lot, supposed to be okay. And it's only a twenty minute drive.”

“Yeah, but then you have to drive back and you've been drinking.”

“I can give you a lift, if you like.” Shane shrugged. “It's not that far. Road trip, just like old times. Lad's holiday, down the motorway and back.” He laughed. Mark smirked, digging the I.D back out and staring at the picture. He looked too young in it, he thought, though people always said he looked a little older than he was, with his longer features and a bit more height. If anyone was going to get checked it was Kian, who was about five feet tall and a bit baby-faced. “I've got to go through that way on Saturday night, actually. I'm headed down to Roscommon for my cousin's wedding. If you don't mind an early start I can pick you up around five?”

Kian whooped, then shushed himself. Shane laughed.

Mark rolled his eyes, trying to swallow down the butterflies in his stomach.

 

*

 

He was home alone a few nights later when he finally ended up using the vibrator. He'd turned it on once when he'd first gotten it, just to see what it was like, but the sudden buzzing had seemed awfully loud and he'd switched it off straight away, sure it would be heard. But his parents had stepped out around six to take his brothers to a football game, and by the time seven o'clock rolled around Mark had well and truly stopped studying.

He went to the window, looking out. He couldn't see Nicky, but there was no bike in the driveway so perhaps he was out. They hadn't seen as much of each other over the last week or so – Nicky was always out job-hunting and Mark had made more of an effort to see Kian, especially since he'd offered to pay for the fake driver's license as an early birthday present. He realised he'd been neglecting his friends a little bit, but it was so hard not to be caught up when this gorgeous guy was filling his time and his thoughts.

That thought it mind he went to his sock drawer, reaching into the back for the little ziplock bag. It was a cliché hiding place, maybe, but he didn't exactly have a loose floorboard or a secret compartment to work with, so sock drawer it was. He unzipped it, looking it over again, then switched it on.

It tickled his fingers. The buzzing wasn't so loud, not without the added paranoia of his parents being home. He switched it back off again, trying to figure out how to do this.

He sat back down on the bed, tugging his pyjama bottoms down a bit and starting to touch himself, tugging gently until he felt a bit of movement, sinking his head back into the pillow. It was sort of nice, doing this without having to worry about being caught out. He bit his lip, closing his eyes and feeling himself harden in his hand.

Nicky, laying on his couch with his shirt off, watching as Mark put together a set of shelves. Fingers stroking through that hair above his shorts, following the soft, gingery trail. He wanted to go over and touch, so he did, watching Nicky's eyes flutter closed, letting him do it. Wanting him to. Unzipping his shorts and pushing Mark's hand onto that bulge he could always see settled comfortably into Nicky's clothes, feeling it hot and hard in his hand. A soft moan, Nicky's head tipping back as he was touched.

He gasped, tipping his own head back into his pillow, heard Nicky gasp back, felt fingers thread through his hair. Imagined the fingers were Nicky's, imagined the hair in his own hand was blonde and long, grabbing each other as Nicky pulled him into a kiss, dragged him on top, breathed his name.

“I want you...” Nicky would whisper, rolling into his hand, pushing a hand between them and touching him back, grinding up into him. And Mark would whisper it back, licking down his chest, sucking at hard pink nipples that would get even harder under his mouth. Nicky would cry out, rake fingernails up his back, moan when Mark nibbled up his neck, fingers feeling the curve of him, the heat, feel the wetness that was slipping over his fingers, making it easier.

He opened his eyes, watched his hand move on his own cock. He was hard, slipping through his grip slowly, beginning to leak.

And then afterwards he'd watch Nicky sit in the window and smoke a cigarette. He did it every night, always around midnight or one. And Mark would stay up, his lights turned off, and watch, watch while Nicky would sit there framed by light, an indefinably sad smile on his face. Then the lights would go off and Nicky would go to bed, and Mark would lay there, thinking of what he might be doing.

Tentatively he reached a finger back, feeling seriously weird about this but finding it hard to focus when he was so hard. Tugged his balls up with the other hand to make room and began to roll them gently while his fingers slid down the slight valley, feeling himself tense.

And then oh.

Oh wow.

“Fuck.” He muttered, closing his eyes again. It was weird, muscles jumping where he touched lightly, then harder, pressing down as his other hand picked up the stroke again. Thought about pushing in but couldn't fathom going that far, not when the pressure was so delicious. Ran a finger around the outside, heard himself moan. Heard Nicky moan, touching him like that, biting at his ear while Nicky touched him like that.

“I want to fuck you...” Nicky would pant, so desperate against his ear. “I want to be inside you.” And Mark would let him. Would push back onto that finger, would stroke himself hard while Nicky rolled on top. He felt the tip of his own finger slide in, bit his lip against the sudden cry, then pulled out again, reaching for the vibrator.

He forgot entirely to put a condom on it, was too far gone to think, but the buzzing in his hand was a promise, and when he hesitantly reached down, touching carefully and feeling his whole body rock back at the feeling, he was too far gone for much of anything.

“Oh...” He muttered, dragging it in circles until he found the spot that seemed to react the hardest. It was almost too intense, like being tickled from the inside. Pushed in just the tip, felt it rock right up into his chest. Cried out, hand moving even faster.

“That's it, baby...” Nicky would whisper, sinking into him, wrapped around him, Mark's legs around his waist and fingers in his hair, their mouths crushed together. “You feel so fucking good...”

He would try to say something back, but oh god, he couldn't, it was too much. Bit his lip, closed his eyes, trying to stay quiet too much of a habit after all this time, but the buzzing was getting louder, blending with the sound of a motorcycle roaring up the street, crunching into the driveway opposite. Nicky. God. Nicky was home. He wanted to get up and look out the window, but he couldn't, not when it was pushing a little bit deeper, pressing right fucking _there, oh jesus, right there_ and oh god, oh god, he couldn't. He just fucking couldn't...

He came with a cry, felt it shudder out of him forever, his hand moving fast, the vibrations seeming to echo through and force out long, slow spurts that covered his chest and stomach. He pulled it out slowly, not sure how deep it had gone, but knowing, just fucking _knowing_ that his own hand would never be good enough again, not when it was five minutes later and he was still laid there, covered in his own cum and shivering with occasional aftershocks.

He made himself get up, giggling slightly when his legs wobbled and almost sent him back down. He staggered into the bathroom and washed off, leaning his forehead against the tiles and trying to calm his racing heart.

When he got back, the vibrator was still there on the bed, purple and stark against his blue sheets.

He stared at it for a minute, then laughed to himself.

Okay, then.

 

*

 

“Nicky's house is coming along.” His mother commented. They were all sat at the table for dinner, tucking into roast beef and potatoes. He had actually managed to make it down for a full meal for once, couldn't stare at his books any longer without going mad. Not that he'd been doing as much studying lately, not when he was rushing home before his parents could get there to use the vibrator.

He couldn't bloody stop, it seemed like. It was just too good, pushing it deep and thinking about Nicky inside him, fucking his fist and imagining Nicky bent over, looking back over his shoulder and asking for it, crying out when he'd push in slow, his fingers tightening as he imagined what that would feel like, whether the tightness he felt around his own fingers would squeeze around his cock, whether Nicky would be that tight, that hot. Feeling the vibrations tingle up through him, and then grind into a roar when he found the right spot, the one that made his toes curl, that made Nicky grunt and bite at him, pushing faster and harder, fucking him. Making him cry out Nicky's name and covering himself in his own release.

“Yeah, just have to do a bit of painting outside, and then we're all done.” His father nodded. “He's picking out colours and that. Useless at the building, but the lad knows how to decorate.”

“Bit of a cliché.” His mother chuckled. Mark looked up in surprise. “Oh, don't look like that.” She laughed. “Lad's gay. Could spot that one a mile off. He told me he liked what I'd done with my hair when I saw him in town the other day, and I'm supposed to think he's straight?” She looked at his dad. “You don't even notice if it _has_ been done.

“I think you always look lovely.” His father hedged. “If I said it all the time it'd get old.”

“Nice try.” She winked, glancing at Mark. “He's a nice lad. Said you've been helping him out a bit with a few chores.” Her face was curious, and Mark felt his flush.

“Erm... yeah, just gave him a hand putting together some bookshelves.” He mumbled. “He's useless.”

“I can believe that. I swear he just walks around half the day holding a screwdriver and looking busy.” His dad snorted. “Nice lad, though. Good for you to have, you know...” He glanced at Mark's brothers, who couldn't have looked less interested in the conversation, were too busy having an in-depth argument about Power Rangers. “Friends.”

“Thanks, dad.” Mark mumbled. He could tell his dad was trying to be supportive, but this was just weird, especially considering how he was thinking about Nicky lately. At least they seemed to like him. His mother leaned over, ruffling his hair.

“Bit old for you, love?”

“God, mam...” He brushed her off. “He's a good guy. I helped him build some shelves. I'm not dating him or anything.”

“He's a looker, though. Maybe we should have him over for dinner.”

“Mam...” Mark winced, covering his eyes. “Leave it.”

“Okay.” She chuckled, nudging his shoulder. “I suppose you could do worse.” She looked back at his dad, and Mark drifted into silence as they began to talk about boring adult things, picking at his meal.

 

*

 

Nicky was at the window again, cigarette grasped loosely in his hand. Mark watched, his chin leaned on the windowsill, peeking through his curtains. As he watched Nicky slipped back inside, the drapes closing behind him. He disappeared from the room, but for the first time the lights didn't go immediately off. He kept watching, wondering what was going on.

A few minutes later another shape passed the window. For a second he thought it was Nicky again, they were about the same height, but it wasn't, was slightly taller. It was a girl. He could see the shadow of long hair, the shape of her. She looked fit, slim and with soft curves. She was talking to someone, Nicky probably, was walking backwards in the upstairs bedroom. She was beckoning, a finger crooked towards where the door would be, and a moment later the lights went off.

Mark went to bed, feeling the inexplicable heaviness of his stomach sinking.

 

*

 

It was only the afternoon when Shane dropped them off at the bar. Still light out, the air relatively warm for this time of year. Mark hadn't known what to wear, partly because he'd never been to a bar before, and also because he didn't want to look suspicious, dressing up when he was only supposed to be going to Kian's.

He'd settled on jeans and t-shirt, had stuffed a nicer jacket into the backpack that was supposed to contain pyjamas and his toothbrush. Kian had the same, and they'd dropped both the bags off in Shane's bedroom, empty once they'd dug out their wallets and jackets.

As far as their parents were concerned they were pulling an all-nighter on a group presentation for their History class. As far as Mark was concerned he was stood outside a dodgy looking bar off the motorway in broad daylight, wondering what the hell he was doing here.

They went inside. It was sort of dim, a few older guys dotted around the place smoking. He tried to look casual as he ordered a beer and the guy asked for I.D. He squinted at it, glanced at Mark's face, then began to pour, completely unaware of the fact that Mark was trying not to throw up in his own mouth.

They sat down. The music was terrible, but there were a couple of pool tables and Kian suggested a game for when they weren't being used. Mark sipped his beer, tasting bitter bubbles on his tongue.

“Now what?” Mark shrugged. Kian shrugged back. That seemed to be it, really. He got back up, ordered a plate of chips. Now it was just like being at the Carlton, except they had beer instead of coke and the trip home was going to be a lot more expensive. He sort of wished he had his school textbooks here, just to pass the time.

Kian got more beers, and they went to play pool. It got dark. By the time it was almost ten, he was a little bit sloshed and laughing while Kian tried to find a decent song on the jukebox.

The place was starting to fill up, a live band taking up occupancy in the corner. By eleven it was packed, and Kian was singing along to Bryan Adams songs and making regular trips to the bar. By midnight Mark couldn't find his own face.

Vodka and Red Bull. It had sounded like a good idea. He liked Red Bull, didn't really know if he liked vodka. It didn't seem that bad, though. Everyone went on about how fucked up you'd get, but he was six in and only felt a bit buzzy and excitable. He even got up to dance, feeling fantastic, trying to focus on Kian across from him and feeling his head spin. Kian kept hugging him, bouncing around to Duran Duran and running off to chat up girls.

He went to the toilet. The lights were way too bright in here, and he squinted at his own face in the mirror. It didn't look right. He stuck out his tongue, crossed his eyes.

Then he threw up in the sink.

It was a big one. Heaving, a puree of Red Bull, chips and tomato sauce pouring out in an almost solid mass. He felt quite a bit better afterwards, though, turned the tap on full blast to try to wash it down, ended up poking some of it down with his fingers when it got stuck. When he went back out to the dancefloor, Kian was in the corner with a girl, snogging her face off.

Mark shrugged and went to find himself another drink.

When he got back, Kian was sat in their booth with the same girl.

“This is Mia!” He called over the noise of the club. Mark nodded, sinking back into his side. “She's a Capricorn!”

“Congratulations!” Mark shouted back. She laughed, sweeping pink hair off her face. Looked a bit punk, this one, with the underneath of her hair half shaved off and dyed black. She had a ring through her nose. “I'm a Gemini! What are you drinking?”

“Black Russian!”

“What's in that?”

“Here...” She held it out. Mark took a sip. It was very sweet, sort of like coffee, clearing his head. “Nice, right?”

“Brilliant.” He nodded, knocking back the rest of his vodka. “I'll have one of them. Kian?”

“Sounds good.”

He got back up to go to the bad, leaned over to talk to the bartender, who was wiping glasses. It was a new guy. The other lad had been taller, broader, with dark hair. This guy was shorter, blonde. He turned around, glancing up.

Oh shit.

“Mark?” Nicky raised an eyebrow, looking surprised. “Fuck are you doing here?”

“Um...” He tried to find the words, but all of a sudden his couldn't think straight. “What are... you doing here?”

“It's my second shift.” Nicky put down the glass, crossed his arms. “You've been drinking.”

“A little bit.” Mark admitted. “You got a job?”

“Don't change the subject.” Another lad was waving at Nicky, and he turned his attention quickly, pouring the a beer and taking his money. “How much have you had?”

“Ehm...” He tried to remember, but numbers seemed difficult. “I had three beers.”

“And then?” Nicky was picking up the tap for the water already, filling a glass. It landed in front of Mark a moment later with ice-cubes swimming in it. “Drink that. And you have not just had beer. What else?”

“Some um... vodka and Red Bull. Seven vodka and Red Bulls.” Nicky glared at him. “And a sip of a Black Russian.”

“Jesus Christ.” Nicky sighed. “Drink that. Then I'll get you another.”

“I feel fine.”

“Now you do. Give it a couple of hours.” He reached out across the bar, put his hand over Mark's. He felt the tingle go all the way up his arm, moving slowly in the fog of vodka. “What the fuck possessed you to do that?”

“We got fake I.Ds.” He mumbled around the lip of the glass, not mentioning Shane, not wanting to incriminate anyone. “Don't tell my parents.” The water went down clear and cold. It tasted amazing, somehow. He handed the glass back to Nicky, who began to refill it. “Please?”

“I expected better of you.” Nicky sighed. Suddenly, Mark was angry.

“Fuck off, Nicky, you're not my dad. Christ.” He spat, plonking the glass back down on the table. “You can't tell me what to do.”

“No, I'm not, otherwise I'd be _really_ pissed off.” Nicky's voice was level, but he was staring at Mark with the kind of flat gaze that just dared him to try something. Mark felt like crying, all of a sudden. Of course, he was just a stupid fucking kid, wasn't he? Just like always. He sank down into a stool, feeling tears start. “Oh Jesus, are you crying?”

“No.” He wiped his nose. “Just pissed off.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm sick of everyone treating me like a fucking child.” He wiped his eyes. “It's shit. I don't get to make any of my own decisions. I'm always trying to keep up to what someone else wants me to do, I'm not old enough to go anywhere, and even if I fancy someone I'm too young to do anything about it. There's school, and my parents, and Kian wanted to come out drinking and I didn't even really want to because it's not even that good, but at least I'm not getting fucking... fucking graded on it. All I do is study, and get yelled at, and get asked where I am and what I'm doing and I'm just... I'm sick of it. And now you're fucking disappointed in me, apparently.” He sighed, draining the glass of water and resting his chin on the bar, buried in his folded arms. Nicky began to fill it again. “And you were the only person that treated me like an adult, so that's fucked too.”

“So act like one.” Nicky sighed. “You think being an adult is getting drunk at a shitty bar on the motorway?” He reached out, ruffling Mark's hair. “You don't just turn into one on your eighteenth birthday. Fuck, I'm not an adult, I'm just doing the best I can. I can guarantee you that most people aren't. We're all fucking terrified. We all make mistakes. Some bigger than others...” He leaned down, looking Mark in the eye. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Mark mumbled back. “I feel sick.”

“I bet you do.” Nicky smirked. “Go home, sleep it off.”

“Can't. Supposed to be studying at Kian's.” He sighed, burying his face in his arms. Heard Nicky chuckle.

“I knock off at six. Here.” Mark looked up as keys were pressed into his hand. “Get a cab, okay? Go back to mine and crash. I'll be home in a few hours.” He opened Mark's hand, picked out a key and held it up. “Front door. Got it?”

“Yeah.” Mark nodded. “Are you sure...?”

“Definitely.” Nicky closed his hand again, squeezed it slightly. “I won't tell your parents if you don't do it again. If you want to do something stupid, come talk to me next time. Though with how you're gonna feel when you wake up I think you might want to stay home for a bit.” He smirked, and to Mark's surprise a kiss was pressed to his cheek. He touched it dumbly, feeling it damp against his numb face. Nicky stood back up, turned to serve someone. “Get out of here, idiot. I'll see you later.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Nicky's bed was warm and soft, sinking up around him while he pressed his face into it, breathing in his scent. He'd left Kian at the bar – his friend had been fairly taken by Mia the Capricorn, and had waved Mark on his way when he'd mentioned he was leaving. He didn't have the energy to argue, not when he could feel Nicky's eyes on his back.

He fell asleep almost straight away, woke two hours later to spend the next hour hunched over the toilet, drifting in and out of consciousness between vomits. He felt awful, suddenly, like his teeth were chattering, his whole body overstrung and twitching, knees practically knocking together while he sat shivering next to the toilet, waiting for the next wave to hit.

Then he fell asleep in the corner of the bathroom, woke again, managed to suck a few mouthfuls of water from the bathroom tap, and collapsed back onto the bed, trying not to shake and feeling strangled whenever the blankets touched him, his feet like ice and the rest of him too hot.

“Yeah, figured that might happen.” Nicky laughed from the doorway. Mark looked up. The older boy looked tired but cheerful, his jacket draped over one arm. “The bathroom smells like puke.”

“Sorry.” Mark bit out, feeling his jaw tighten. “Couldn't stop.”

“Yeah, I know. Red Bull's a fucker like that. You think you're sober, but then you're really really not.” The bed rolled as Nicky sat down next to him. “Just think, you're not even hungover yet. You think you are, but you're actually still drunk.” Mark groaned, burying his face in his hands. How much longer was this going to go on?

“I want to die.”

“No, you don't.” Nicky smirked, running a hand through his hair. “You want a piece of toast and a big glass of water. Then you're going to throw all of that up, sleep a bit longer, and I'll make you breakfast.” He sank down to lay next to Mark. “You smell really bad, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Mark mumbled. Blue eyes blinked cheerfully at him. “How much longer?”

“Oh usually just until lunchtime.” Nicky laughed. “But you're new to this, so frankly it could go all day.” He laughed again while Mark groaned. “Calm down, yeah? It's going to be fine.” He reached out his arms, pulled Mark in. He was warm and comforting, but Mark couldn't focus on that right now. Hands stroked his back. “I'm desperate for a sleep, so how about we crash for a bit and you try not to throw up on me?”

Mark nodded, closing his eyes. A kiss dropped to the top of his hair, and in the muddled darkness of encroaching sleep he thought the laugh sounded almost affectionate.

 

*

 

When he woke, Nicky was fast asleep next to him, his face tilted up to the ceiling. Mark rolled onto his own back, trying not to make any sudden movements.

He felt a little better. Felt like maybe he wanted a big glass of water but couldn't risk getting up to get one. He glanced over at Nicky, at parted lips and a slowly rising chest, long eyelashes skating high cheeks. He looked beautiful. Tired, but beautiful.

He slid back over, carefully resting his head in the crook of an arm, leaning his cheek on a slender chest. Nicky had been the one to start holding him before they'd gone to sleep last time, so maybe if he snuggled back in before he woke up Nicky would think he'd been there all along. He wrapped an arm around Nicky's waist, closing his eyes, felt his chest fall and then rise again, tried to match their breathing.

Nicky shifted, sighing softly, but when Mark looked up he was still asleep, his face tilted towards Mark. He couldn't look away. Soft, parted lips, moist. A defined jaw, rough with slight stubble. Mark brushed his finger hesitantly over his chin, feeling it rasp over his skin, sliding up slightly to get a better look, their noses almost touching.

Nicky's eyes fluttered open.

They widened, rocking back a little bit in surprise. Mark wanted to move away, he really did, but a hand was coming up to touch his back, still trapped under his side from when they'd been snuggled together.

“Um.” Mark said quietly. Nicky swallowed.

“Hey.” He murmured.

Then Mark kissed him.

It was light, their lips just brushing together and Mark painfully aware of the fact that he probably smelled like vomit and spirits, probably tasted awful too, but then Nicky was sucking gently on his top lip, his bottom lip slipping into Mark's mouth, and Mark was trying not to do anything really embarrassing while a hand splayed out across his shoulders, pulling him into it.

“Nicky...?” Mark started when their lips drifted apart, Nicky's eyes fluttering back open. “Are you...?”

“Please...” He whispered, their mouths pulled back together a breath later. Mark let his hand tighten on Nicky's waist, slid up a little bit more so their faces were more level, felt a tongue brush his lips. Opened them, touched back, heard Nicky groan softly, felt him arch up.

“I want you.” Mark whispered. “I want you.”

“God, Mark...” Nicky managed, pushing him away slightly. He was breathing hard, their faces mere inches apart. Nicky's hand was still on his back. He swallowed hard, eyes studying him. Mark looked back, not sure what to say, too fucked up to say anything. “No, this isn't right. You're too young.”

“I'm not, I'm...” Mark bit his lip. “All I think about is...” He felt his face heat. “I... I want you to fuck me. Please.”

“Jesus.” Nicky breathed, covering his eyes. “Don't say shit like that. It's too hot.” He peeked through his fingers, laughing slightly. “No. It's really illegal. Not until you're seventeen.”

“It's only a few weeks away...”  
  
“Then it's only a few weeks to wait.” Nicky sat up. He was hard, Mark didn't miss it, even while Nicky bent up a knee to hide it. He looked back at Mark. “You have any idea how hard it's been to not want you?”

The thrill of gratified excitement, the total rush of joy, was muted by the fact that when Mark sat up, he sort of felt his stomach rise. Fuck, he was really hungover. Nicky saw it, pointed at the bathroom.

“Go.”

He ran, ended up over the toilet a few seconds later, heaving up nothing and feeling his eyes sting with tears. A hand ran down his back, a glass of water pressing into his hand when he was done.

“Oh, kiddo...” Nicky chuckled, sinking down next to him. Mark smiled weakly, leaning his arm on the seat and resting his head on it. “You okay?”

“I threw up.” Mark mumbled, taking a sip of water. “You want me?”

“I do.” Nicky leant his head back against the wall. He was looking at Mark. Regarding him. He crossed his arms on his knees. “Maybe it's me being an idiot, because this is obviously a bad thing to want, but I do. I haven't smiled as much in...” He shook his head. “Well, it's been a long time.” He leaned in, pecking Mark's cheek. “I like you very much, even if you are a stupid pisshead.”

“Thanks.” Mark was about to say something sarcastic, but he threw up again instead. Nicky laughed, stroking his shoulders.

 

*

 

He slept a bit longer, had a shower, and when he came out breakfast was on the table. It was almost lunch. He wanted to call Kian, sort of, make sure he'd gotten home okay, but didn't want to risk Mr or Mrs Egan picking up when they thought Kian was still at his.

“Thanks for last night.” He managed, beginning to mop up egg yolk with the edge of his toast. “Sorry.”

“It's fine.” Nicky snorted. “Told you you'd regret it."

“I'm never drinking again.”

“Yeah, right.” Nicky laughed. “I think I've said that about a thousand times. The first time I got drunk I thought I was going to die. I must have been throwing up for two days. Then two weeks later it was back on the horse and off we go.”

“How old were you?”

“About twelve.” Nicky raised an eyebrow. Mark looked back in surprise. “I was a little tearaway, to be honest. I don't think my parents knew where I was half the time. And when they did, they didn't want to.” He took a bite of his toast, looking at Mark. “I never took drugs or anything, but I was definitely always the first one to try something mental, especially if someone said I couldn't.” He rested his elbow on the table, showing off a long scar on his forearm. “This one was from one of my mates betting me I couldn't jump my bike off the roof of the school parking garage. It was only one storey, but I fell through the front window of the principal's car, glass everywhere, and ended up in the hospital. Got expelled the same day.”

“Shit. What did your parents say?”

“Not much.” Nicky shrugged. “Got the belt, slept at a mate's place for a couple of weeks until it all blew over.” He picked at his eggs. “I know your parents annoy you, but they're really nice. You're really lucky.”

“You um...” Mark swallowed, looking back down at his eggs. “Look, this morning when...”

“When you kissed me?” Nicky prompted.

“Did you mean it?”

“Yeah.” Nicky nodded. “Course.” He reached over putting his hand over Mark's. “Tell me what you're thinking.”  
  
“Erm...” Mark took a deep breath, not sure how to condense everything into words. “I really fancy you.”

“That's a good start.” Nicky smirked. “I really fancy you too.”

“Cool.” The thought sent a jolt of confused delight through him. It all seemed a bit ridiculous, that someone like Nicky was even interested. He felt a bit out of his league. “Um... why?”

“Because...” Nicky squeezed his hand. “I don't know. In a funny way, you remind me a bit of me, I think. Not who I was, but who I wish I had been, you know?”  
  
“What, boring?”

“You're not boring.” Nicky shook his head. “You're just... you're a nice kid. You're a lot more than you think you are. Your parents love you. Do you know how much your dad was gushing about you while he was over here helping out? It was always that you were going to be something. My dad thought I was going to end up in jail or dead, and he was probably right.” He smirked, but it looked sad. “You make mistakes, there's always going to be someone who'll take care of you. Like last night, I know you don't want your parents finding out, but honestly... they'll be angry, they will, but it's only because they want you to be safe. I want you to be safe.” He looked up, eyes conflicted.

“So you fancy my parents?”

“No...” Nicky snorted. “No, it's not that.” He looked at Mark. “I... I watch you sometimes. I feel like a pervert saying that, because you're a minor and that's weird, but...” He shook his head. “I can see you sometimes, when your light's on. Just like... walking around. Reading. And it's nice, knowing you're there. I liked it when you came over every afternoon to help, because seeing you was the best bit of my day.”

“It was the best bit of mine too.” Mark admitted. “I felt wrong having you pay me for it.”

“It felt wrong paying you. Like I was buying the right to be near you. It felt creepy.” Nicky snorted. “I'd do it again though.”

“Yeah.” Mark nodded, turning his hand over. Their fingers linked together. Nicky smiled. “I watch you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed around sudden embarrassment. “Sometimes I... I um jerk off. While I watch you. Or after.”

“Oh.” Nicky licked his lips. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” Mark bowed his head, felt the fingers in his grip tighter.

“What...” Nicky's voice sounded hoarser. “What do you think about?” When Mark looked up his eyes were darker, his tongue tracing his lips. “Tell me what you think about.”

“I... think about touching you.” Mark said softly. “I think about how it would feel, being inside you. Sucking you. You're so... sexy and I...” He licked his own lips, feeling how dry they were. “I want you to hold me down and fuck me.” He looked up. “I used the vibrator. I fucked myself with it and thought about you.”

“Fuck.” Nicky closed his eyes, and when they opened they were almost black. His thumb slid between their hands, stroking Mark's palm, drawing small circles. “That's really hot.” He mumbled. “How did it feel?”

“Amazing.” Mark admitted. “I watched you sit on the windowsill, smoking a cigarette, and I... I fingered myself and watched.” He swallowed hard. “God, Nicky, you don't know...”

“Fuck.” Nicky's chair clattered to the floor but Mark barely noticed because Nicky was in his lap, sat astride him in less than a second and kissing him hard, tongue plunging into his mouth. Mark groaned, hands tightening on his waist, not sure what else to do, too overwhelmed, too hungover. Hands framed his face, yanking him into the kiss, dragging out his breath, and Nicky was making a noise, grinding into his stomach. Hot and hard, digging into him, his own erection digging back while Nicky moved against him, rocking in his lap. He grabbed Mark's hair, tugging him back, their foreheads leant together while Nicky gasped.

Mark watched his hands travel up Nicky's sides, caress his ribs, trying to feel everything at once. Heard Nicky's breath hitch, looked up into blue eyes that stared at him.

“I want you.” Nicky mumbled. “I can't have you.”

“Why not?”

“No.” Nicky groaned, going to move away. Mark hardened his grip, stopping him, pushed against him to try to relieve the discomforting tightness of his jeans. Nicky whimpered, writhing. “Too young.”

“Don't care.” Mark muttered. “I'm not a child.”

“You _are_.” Nicky murmured. “Legally you are. I can't...” He shut his eyes, still pushing against him, the pressure delicious. “I can't.”

“Fuck me.” Mark urged. “Please...”

“No.” Nicky pushed off with a sob. Backed away against the kitchen counter, his hands gripping the edge tight like he was trying not to let himself go. Mark's chest was heaving, his cock painfully hard and he stared at Nicky, wanting to go over there and pin him to the counter, rip open his jeans and... “No, Mark.” He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “No.”

“Nicky...”

“No.” Nicky shook his head, turning away. “Go... go home, okay? I can't do this right now.”

“I'm sorry...” Mark attempted, trying to will away his arousal. Nicky looked like he was about to cry. “I won't tell anyone.”  
  
“That's not the point.” Nicky looked back. “The point is you're sixteen, and I can't live with myself if I...” He stared at Mark, chewing his lip. “Let me just...” He picked his chair up, sat back down in it. Far enough away that Mark couldn't touch him which was probably a good thing. “Older guys... it's never a good idea, okay? I've been with too many of them and it's never worked out well. It always seems exciting, but...”

“You're not an older guy. You're you.” Mark pointed out. “Are you going to hurt me?”

“Not if I can help it.” Nicky looked away. “But it doesn't mean I won't. I'm really not a good person to be around, okay?”

“Why not?”

“Just...” He shook his head, spreading his hands as though he was looking in them for some kind of answer. “You'll understand when you're older.”

“Don't give me that crap.” Mark bit back. “I'll understand when you tell me.”

Nicky sighed, looking up at him, studying him.

“When are you supposed to be home?”

“Not until three.”

“Okay.” Nicky nodded. “You wanna go watch TV? Just hang out for a while?”

Mark was about to say something, something about what he really wanted to do, but there was something in Nicky's eyes that said it wasn't welcome. He felt like he was being tested, almost, to see if he could do that. Just that. Be whatever it was Nicky needed him to be.

He could do that.

 

*

 

It was the afternoon when Mark left. They'd not done much more than sit on the couch, watching television like they usually did. It was always sort of hard, sitting that close to Nicky and resisting the urge to lean over do something more, but it was even more difficult now with the lingering taste of kisses on his mouth. Before it was just a mad fantasy, now it was...

About halfway into the midday movie, Nicky looked over, motioned him a little closer, and reached out an arm, letting Mark lean into his side. They were all sat up, nothing untoward, but Mark still felt a thrill when he leant his head on Nicky's shoulder, felt fingers stroke his arm lightly, a kiss brush his forehead. By the end of the movie, Nicky's hand was on his thigh.

“I'll see you.” Nicky promised, tidying up Mark's hair. “I have work tonight.” He smiled, running fingers down Mark's jaw and leaving tingles. “I should get some sleep.” Mark realised with a start that Nicky probably hadn't slept for over twenty-four hours, not with taking care of him this morning.

“Can I come over tomorrow afternoon?”  
  
“Yeah.” Nicky nodded. “Tell your parents where you'll be, though.”

“But...”

“No, I'll not...” Nicky shook his head. “Legally... this is dicey. I'd feel better if I didn't think you were climbing down the drainpipe to come see me, yeah? Tell them where you'll be.”

“What will I say?”  
  
“That you're giving me some help with moving furniture.”

“Am I?”

“Sure. You're going to pick up this table here, and put it over there.” He pointed at the tiny end-table. Mark had assembled it. It didn't weigh more than his school backpack. “Big job. Needs assistance. And maybe I'll sort you out for afternoon tea while you're here.”

“Okay.” Mark nodded. “Erm... so bye?”

“Bye.” Nicky agreed. He was pulled in for a chaste hug. “Now get the hell out of here.”

 

*

 

He was back in his room studying when he heard Nicky's bike start up. He looked out the window, watched him clip the helmet on, swing a leg over, then roar off, bent over the sleek body like he had become part of it.

That night there was no light in the upstairs window. Mark clicked off his own light, lay down in bed, and drifted off into a sleep dotted with anxious dreams, woven through by his restless excitement.

Nicky. Nicky liked him.

When he woke it was to the sound of Nicky's bike coming back in, a slow roar that broke the morning silence. He looked out his window, saw him climb back off, unclip the helmet. Messy blonde hair was freed a minute later, and before he went inside, he saw Nicky look over, smile, and wave.

He waved back, watching until the door closed.


	6. Chapter 6

 “So where the fuck did you go?”

“Home.” Mark shrugged. “It was late and I was fucked up.” He sighed, taking a bite of his sandwich. He'd not been able to get Nicky out of his head all morning, had found himself drifting in class, thinking of Nicky kissing him, of how he'd rocked in Mark's lap, fingers in his hair. Thinking of sitting with him on the couch, that hoarse laugh in his ear. “What time do you leave?”  
  
“Didn't. Went back to Mia's and ended up having sex on her couch.”

“How was that?”

“Dunno. Hardly remember.” Kian yawned. “I was really fucked up.”

“Which is why I left.” Mark snorted. “I wanted to make it home in one piece while I could still figure out how to find my house.”

“She had a housemate.”  
  
“That's nice.” Mark shrugged. “You gonna see her again?”

“God, no.” Kian laughed. “She was into astrology and that, kept talking about chakras and energy and stuff. Her house smelled like a hippie's arsehole, all weird herbs and incense. I kept sneezing while I was fucking her. Good shag, though.”

“And she thought you were nineteen.”  
  
“There is that.” Kian agreed. “Ah well. Good night, anyway. We should do it again.”  
  
“No thanks.” Mark snorted. “I do actually have exams to study for, but thanks.”

“Come on, we'll get you a girl.”  
  
“Don't want one, but thanks."

“How could you not? You gay or something?”

Mark rolled his eyes. And... this is why he didn't tell Kian. It wasn't that he was homophobic, it was just that he didn't _get_ it.

“Yes Kian, that's the only reason someone wouldn't want to fuck some bar slut, because he's gay.”

“I didn't mean a bar slut. I just mean a girl.” Kian shrugged. “You don't want to lose your virginity before you go off to university?”

“I want to actually _go_ to university.” Mark argued. “I want to actually study instead of being too caught up worrying where my next lay's coming from.”

“Kylie Whelan.” Kian said promptly. “Taking her to the movies Friday night.”  
  
“Of course you are.” Mark sighed. “How's the study coming?”

“Very well. Check it out. A squared, plus B squared, equals C squared.”

“Which shows what?”

“I don't bloody know. Something with graphs?” Kian shrugged. Mark sighed, taking a bite of his apple. Kian just didn't get it at all. Nicky said he was too young, but he obviously hadn't met Kian Egan. Comparatively speaking, Mark was practically responsible. “Anyway, I'm having a party this weekend for my birthday. You coming? Chloe Butler said she's bringing her sister.”

“Is that important?”

“She's a lesbian. Might bring her girlfriend. Maybe we can watch?”

“I'm sure she'll be absolutely thrilled to have a drunken teenager watching.” Mark shot back. “Shit, I know if I was in a relationship, the first thing I'd do is go to a party and make sure your leering fucking face was there in the corner.”

“I wouldn't want to watch you.” Kian laughed. “No offence.”

“Wow.” Mark sighed. He didn't feel that hungry, all of a sudden. He put down his apple, standing up. “I'll see you later.”  
  
“Where are you going?”

“Somewhere else.” Mark shrugged. Then he walked out of the cafeteria before Kian could say anything more.

 

*

 

“What, you're upset because your friend doesn't want to see you naked?” Nicky laughed, his fingers running gently through Mark's hair. His head was in Nicky's lap while he looked up, trying to ignore the warm feeling of semi-hard flesh in his nape.

“No, I'm just pissed off that...” He sighed, trying to feel annoyed but not able to when fingers smoothed hair over his temples, massaging lightly. “That's nice.”

“I know.” Nicky laughed, rubbing in little circles. “You look all stressed out.”

“I'm not stressed. I just...” He turned his face, kissing the pad of Nicky's thumb. It stroked his lip for a moment before return to his temples. “He's supposed to be my best friend, you know? And I can't ever say anything to him, it feels like. Because he's...”

“An insufferable jackass?”

“That too.” Mark snorted. “He keeps trying to set me up with girls. And I tell him not to bother, but then he just thinks I'm gay.”

“You are.”

“I know. That's the problem.” He looked up into kind blue eyes.

“Maybe he'd stop being a dick if he knew.” Nicky suggested.

“Yeah, but then what if he doesn't? What if it's just worse? Or if he freaks out and tells everyone. It's too...” He shook his head. “I can't.”

“Okay.” The fingers moved from his temples, started stroking down his neck then back up, thumbs rubbing into the hinge of his jaw while fingers carded through his hair. He felt impossibly relaxed all of a sudden, Nicky's hands stroking all the tension out of him.

“Where'd you learn to do that?”

“This?” A knuckle slid under, pressed into the back of his neck. Mark shivered. “You pick things up.”

“Do you?”

“I guess.” Nicky smirked. “I had a girlfriend whose sister was a masseuse. She showed me a couple of things.”

“You know everything.”

“No, just enough to be occasionally impressive.”

“You're impressive all the time.”

“Thanks, but no.” The lap under his head shifted, and he was nudged up into a sitting position while Nicky turned sideways on the couch, tugging him backwards again. He thought he was going to end up laying on Nicky's chest, but then he was pushed carefully forward to rest his arms on his drawn-up knees. Fingers danced along the back of his neck. “You're really tense.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” The ball of a hand began to rock back and forth against his right shoulder blade. He hissed, trying to pull away. “See?”

“Ow.”

“Hold still. It'll be okay in a second.” The laugh was awfully close to his ear, and a minute later he felt a kiss brush the back of his neck. An arm came around his chest, holding him still, fingers still working at his shoulder. A second later he felt something go, something warm and flooding, and his whole right side suddenly relaxed. Nicky chuckled, brushing another kiss to his neck. “There we go.”

“Oh wow.” He sighed, shutting his eyes. “That's better.”

“I'll do the other side.” The arms swapped over, Nicky's right coming around his waist while he worked at the left shoulder. It went too. Then both arms were around his waist. Nicky's thighs cradling his hips. “Feel better?”

“Mmm...” Mark sighed. “Feel all sleepy.”

“Aw...” Nicky squeezed him gently. “So cute. You...” A kiss pressed to his neck. “Are.” Another kiss. “Fucking.” Another. “Lovely.” He pushed Mark away slightly, stood up, though Mark didn't miss the hard ridge in his jeans that he tried to hide. His mouth was wet, all of a sudden. “Come on, I'll get you food.”

 

*

 

“How was Nicky's?”

“Good.” Mark looked down at his plate, sure they could read something if he caught their eyes. His food tasted amazing, though. Everything felt good. If he concentrated, he could still feel hands on the back of his neck, kneading slowly. “I just helped him move some stuff around. Coffee table and that.”

“For two hours?”

“Then we watched TV.” He admitted. They had, though he'd fallen asleep in Nicky's lap while fingers gently stroked his hair. When he'd woken, Nicky was asleep too and it was getting late. “He's gotten a job. At that bar out on the motorway.”

“The big one near the McDonalds?” Mark nodded in reply to his father's question. “That's good. Must be late hours. I thought I heard his bike last night.”

“Yeah, he starts around midnight, finishes in the morning.” Mark stabbed up a forkful of cabbage.

“Isn't it a bit rough doing that?” His mother asked. “You always hear of fights out there, people brawling. He's not a big lad.”

“I'm sure he'll be fine.” His father cut in. “Security would take care of it.”

“Still...” She glanced at Mark. “He's eating alright and everything? He always looks so skinny.”

“I wouldn't know.” Mark laughed. “I'm not his mother. I was just helping him move a coffee table.” He smirked down at his food. Nicky had eaten fine that afternoon, had made them cold chicken sandwiches with loads of tomato sauce. Mark had reached out a thumb to wipe some off his lip, smiling when a sucking kiss was pressed to it.

“You've gotten to be quite good friends with him, though.”

“He's nice.” Mark shrugged. “I don't know. He's really chilled out. I can talk to him.”

“Good.” His mother nodded. “Why don't I invite him over for dinner one night? We can feed him up a bit, get to know him.”

“He has work...”

“I'm sure he has a few days off.” His mother decided. “Ask him when he's free next, okay?” She glanced over at his father, who was too busy looking at his food.

When he went to bed that night, Nicky's light was on. As he watched, a leg kicked out and the spark of a lighter flicked through the darkness.

For the first time since he'd started doing this, Mark switched on his own light.

He waved.

Nicky waved back, his mouth opening in a laugh.

 

*

 

“Mark! You're going to be late!”

He woke up, blearily, wondering what time it was. But the screen of his clock radio was blank.

Fuck.

He looked at his watch. Past eight in the morning. He bolted upright in bed, already scrambling out and trying to yank on a clean uniform. This one was a bit wrinkled, but it would have to do. He dashed downstairs, hoping he could catch the bus, raking a hand through his hair to flatten it down. He sort of needed a shower, but...

“Shit!” He cried as he saw the tail-lights disappearing down the road.

“Language!” His father scolded from the kitchen table. He was eating a piece of toast, looking severe.

“Sorry.” He bit his lip. “My alarm clock's dead.”

“Oh no...” He sighed. “Give me a minute. I'll drive you.” He took another bite. “Go have a shower first or something, though, you look like you just crawled out of a skip.”

Mark nodded, slinking back upstairs.

 

*

 

It was almost eight thirty before they got on the road. Mark turned on his dad's car radio, skipping through until he found a station that wasn't all oldies. The Backstreet Boys came on, and he laughed, turning it up slightly.

“Isn't this one of the CDs your friend Shane used to play all the time?” His father asked. Mark nodded.

“Yeah, sort of got sick of it.” He nodded. “Nicky was playing it the other day. I hadn't heard it in a while.”

“Ah.” His dad paused. Didn't just stop talking, but audibly paused. Mark waited, feeling the hair on the back of his neck prickle slightly. “Your mother wants us to have a chat.”

“About what?” Mark asked. God, he hoped it wasn't the birds and the bees. It was a bit late for that.

“Just about...” His father sighed. “Look, I know when you're young it can be really exciting if someone's interested in you, but...” His hands tapped awkwardly on the steering wheel. “Just... be careful, okay?”

Mark felt his face go hot, turned away to hide it.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Yeah, right.” There was a soft snort from the driver's seat. “Nicky's a nice lad. But he's...” Mark stared out the window, watching cars go past. “It seems like he's had a bit of a hard run. I don't want you getting caught up in something you're not ready for.”

“I'm not a little kid, dad.” Mark said quietly, feeling the flare of embarrassment mix with sudden anger. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can. I'm not going to tell you that you can't, I'm just saying... if you need to have a talk about anything, you can. Not saying I'll know what to say. You know, with sex. Gay sex and... and that.” Mark groaned, heard an embarrassed laugh. “It's not legal at your age. It isn't. But I did some things when I was sixteen that probably weren't either, so...”

“God, dad...” Mark covered his face. “Stop.”

“I will in a minute. Just... look. I'm not going to call the police on Nicky or anything. You seem a lot happier since he's been around, and that's good. Just don't let him get in the way of your school work. There's time for that sort of thing later, you know? He'll still be there when you finish your exams, and if he isn't... well... maybe it wasn't meant to be. And if he does anything you don't feel comfortable with, I want to know that you can tell him to stop.”

“He wouldn't... he's not.” Mark took a deep breath, knowing he was about to incriminate himself. “He said he won't do anything until I'm seventeen.”

“Well, that's sort of comforting I guess.” His dad laughed. “Right. Okay. Talk over.” He reached over, putting a hand on Mark's shoulder. Mark looked back, smiled despite the fact that he sort of wanted to throw himself out the door and into traffic. “You're a good lad, and I'm proud of you.”

“Thanks dad.” He mumbled, rolling his eyes when his dad switched back to the oldies station.


	7. Chapter 7

The next few days dragged. Mark managed to avoid any crap with Kian. They just sort of pretended it had never happened, sat back down at lunch and started chatting about plans for Kian's birthday. Mark hadn't known what to get him, particularly, so had just gotten him a few CDs from the Record Room that he didn't think Kian had yet.

He didn't get to see Nicky much. It felt strange, going over there when his parents knew what was going on, and at night Nicky was off at work, the light in his window determinedly out.

He finally saw him again Thursday morning on the way to wait for the school-bus. Nicky was just coming out of his house, a backpack tossed over his shoulder, and Mark lifted his hand in a wave. Nicky waved back, ambling across the street.

“Hey.” He grinned. He was wearing jeans and his motorcycle jacket, the helmet cradled under one arm. “Off to school?” Mark nodded. “How've you been? Haven't seen you.”

“No.” Mark sighed, looking up. “Sorry. My parents know."

“Oh.” Nicky took half a step back. “You're not allowed to see me any more, then?”

“No, erm...” Mark laughed. “They want you to come to dinner, actually. Well, mam does. Dad gave me the talk.”

“Oh, not the talk.” Nicky snorted, stepping back in. He looked relieved, though. “How'd that go?”

“Okay. Sorry, I haven't been avoiding you or anything. I just had school work to catch up on and...”  
  
“Definitely.” A hand fell on his shoulder. “Well... I can do tonight if you like? Or next Tuesday. I'm working all weekend, but...” He squeezed gently. “Look, how about I come in and talk to your parents, and then I'll give you a ride to school.” He gestured back at the bike. “It'll be really cool – I'll drop you off at the gate where everyone can see.”

“I've never been on a motorbike before.”  
  
“First rule is hang on.” Nicky laughed. “Second rule is wear a helmet. I'll get you a spare.” He nudged Mark lightly. “I'm headed into town anyway, but I'm happy to make a detour.”

“Okay.” Mark decided. It would be pretty cool, showing up to school on a motorbike. Admittedly, riding behind a bloke probably wasn't ticking all the boxes, but it was still better than slouching off the bus with everyone else. “Yeah. Thanks.”

 

*

 

It went well, all things considered. Nicky was very polite, said hi and then proceeded to charm the absolute pants off both of them. He joked with Mark's dad, complimented his mother, and then somehow managed to get himself invited to dinner that night, promising to bring wine. It was a little bit impressive. He touched Mark's shoulder twice, glancing at him for approval, and Mark thought he saw his mother swoon a little bit.

Then Mark put on a helmet, climbed up on the bike behind him, and held on.

“Who was that?” Kian asked, after he'd finished handing back the helmet and Nicky had roared away. Mark shrugged, trying to look casual even though he could hear people whispering.

“Just a friend.”

 

*

 

“Mam... he's going to be here in a minute...” Mark complained as his mother fussed about, straightening up her hair. “He doesn't care what you look like.”

“It's a good thing you're never going to have to say the right thing to women.” She glared, and Mark raised his hand in defeat. “He's coming to our house, he's bringing wine. I'm putting in effort.” She looked at his clothes. “You could do the same, you know.”

“It's Nicky.” He protested.

“It is. Now go get the roast out of the oven, it should be just about done.” She ordered. His brothers were staying at friends houses tonight, which was fine being Friday and all. Mark was supposed to be going to Kian's birthday party tomorrow night, wasn't sure if he could be bothered or if he was going to spend the whole time being fixed up with girls.

The doorbell rang just as he was putting the tray down on the stove.

“I'll get it!” He called out, dashing past as his dad went to stand. He wrenched it open, got a familiar smirking grin. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey.” Nicky laughed, giving him a chaste peck on the cheek. He was holding a bunch of flowers. “These are for your mother, not for you.” He explained. He handed Mark two bottles of wine. “These are also not for you, not after last time.” He teased quietly. Mark was about to say something, when his mother walked into the hall.

“Nicky.”

“Marie. Hi. Sorry, your son's distracting me.” Mark stepped aside as Nicky pushed past. “Saw these and thought of you.”  
  
She blushed. She actually blushed while she thanked him, started fussing about and trying to find a vase to put them in. His dad shook Nicky's hand. It was bizarre. Mark had expected an interrogation, maybe some disappointed scowling, but Nicky just wandered in, asked what the great smell was, and then asked for cooking tips. Mark had never seen Nicky cook anything except fried eggs and toast, but all of a sudden it was honey glazes and rosemary stuffing while Nicky nodded politely, looking fascinated.

By the time they sat down at the table, Mark had barely said two words. Didn't want to, really, and be totally awkward and stupid when Nicky was being so... smooth. He felt a hand take his under the table, squeeze slightly, and found himself smiling blankly at his plate while Nicky discussed cars with his dad.

“But Mark's been a big help.” Nicky said suddenly. Mark looked up at the sound of his name, having drifted off while fingers gently stroked his.

“Sorry, what?” He asked. Nicky dropped his hand, picking up his wine glass instead.

“Just saying you've been a big help. Your dad's obviously rubbed off on you a bit. If my dad had taught me how to do that stuff, I'd probably be a bit more functional.”

“It's just instructions.” Mark shrugged, looking down at his plate.

“Yeah, but I'm useless.” Nicky nudged him lightly. “I'm standing there with no idea what to do, and suddenly he's putting it together like solving a rubik's cube. I've got no idea.” He reached over, grabbing another roll from the centre.

“What does your dad do?” His mother asked.

“Well, last I saw him he was a singer in a pub band.” Nicky shrugged. “Been a while.” He pursed his lips, looking like he was struggling a little bit to find the words. “Admittedly, the last time I saw him he was also drunk off his arse and telling me not to come back, so he could be doing anything now, to be honest.”

“Oh...” Mark's mother gasped quietly. “I'm sorry.”

“No, it's fine. I used to not say anything, you know, but honestly... well, what have I got to be embarrassed about? He's the disgrace.” Nicky began to spread butter on his roll. “My mother was okay, I suppose, but she was generally more inclined to do whatever he said, so it was a bit hit and miss. I probably brought it on myself. Got in a lot of trouble when I was younger, but...” He shrugged. “I think Sligo's a better place for me. Chilled out. You try to be good, but when you're around the same people all the time... Mark's a good influence on me, as well.” He put a hand over Mark's, squeezing gently. Mark looked back, feeling Nicky's smile spill over onto his own lips. “Think I'll stay for a bit.”

“Promise?” Mark teased. Nicky lifted his hand, kissing the knuckles gently. His mother said 'aww'. Actually 'aww'. His father coughed, but when Mark looked up he was smiling too.

 

*

 

“You might actually be the smoothest fucking idiot I've ever seen.” Mark laughed as Nicky let them back inside. He was walking the older boy home, though Nicky had asked very politely if it was okay for Mark to stay over for a little bit. They hadn't even blinked, though they had been plied with wine, and Mark's dad had been willing to agree to just about anything by the time Nicky had pored over his record collection, asking questions about obscure jazz and looking genuinely interested in the answers. Mark had to practically drag him away from a twenty minute conversation about Miles Davis.

“How so?” Nicky looked over his shoulder, closing the door.

“Just... that shit with my parents? That was magic.”

“I like your parents. I was just having a chat.” Nicky shrugged. “I didn't say anything that wasn't true.”

“Yeah, but...” Mark shook his head. “They love you.”

“Good.” Nicky nodded. “If they like me, I still get to see you.” He reached out, twisting his fingers into Mark's. “I'm serious about this, okay? I'm not here to fuck you and then skip town. I've done enough of that shit over the years.”

“You could still fuck me.”

“Not for another month.” Nicky shook his head. “Absolutely not.” He led Mark over to the couch, tugging him down. “I will accept a post-dinner cuddle, though.”

“Yeah.” His head was on Nicky's chest a minute later, fingers running gently through his hair. He closed his eyes, feeling the tension leave him. “I was worried.”

“Why?”

“That... you know, that they wouldn't like you.”

“Do you think I'm not good enough?”

“No. God, no.” Mark turned his head to kiss Nicky's shirt, feeling his heart beat under his lips. “I just... I don't know what I expected.” He nuzzled into Nicky's chest, felt a kiss drop to his hair. “You're serious about me?”

“I am.” Mark looked up to see Nicky smiling at him. He craned his neck, smiling when a soft kiss tripped over his lips. “I meant what I said. You're good for me.” Another kiss brushed his mouth. They hadn't done much of this. He got the feeling Nicky was holding back, trying not to allow to much of it in case it went somewhere. Mark pressed a little harder, felt Nicky's lips part slightly, pushed in with his tongue.

There was a soft, whimpering moan, and fingers closed on the back of his neck, pulling him in. Mark swallowed, shifting up a little bit for a better angle. Nicky arched, pulling away.

“Stop.” He breathed. “Stop it.”

“But...” Mark complained.

“I said stop.” Nicky said, nudging him away. Mark groaned, trying to capture his mouth again, trying to show him that if they just...

He was shoved hard, and before he realised it he was on the floor, his hip cracking hard off the coffee table on the way down. Nicky dragged his knees up to his chest, glaring at him.

“What the fuck?”

“I said stop!” Mark was about to get up, start arguing, but then Nicky started to cry, sobbing into his knees. He stared for a long minute, not sure what to do.

“Nicky... I didn't...” Mark bit his lip, looking around. “I'm sorry.”  
  
“Someone says stop, you fucking stop, Mark! Jesus Christ!” Nicky looked up, his eyes red and blazing. “Get out, okay? Just... just fucking leave me alone.”

“No, Nicky...” His heart was racing as tears rolled down Nicky's cheeks, guilt settling in his stomach like a stone. “I didn't think... I didn't mean to...” There was a box of tissues on the coffee table, which he didn't want to think about the implications of, and he scooped it up, holding it out. “Here, um...” He bit his lip, not sure what to say. “Sorry. I'm really sorry.”

Nicky stared at him for a long minute, his eyes spilling tears, chest moving hard against the cage of his thighs. Then, slowly, he reached out and took a tissue, scrunching it up in his fist.

“I said stop.”

“I know. I didn't think you meant...” Mark looked down at his knees, feeling suddenly ashamed. God, it was that whole school talk, wasn't it? No means no. If a girl had said stop, he'd be expected to. But Nicky had and... it had just been a kiss. He hadn't meant... “I'm sorry.” He chewed his lip, trying to think past his confusion. “Are you... are you okay?”

Nicky didn't say anything either way, just began to scrub at his eyes with the tissue, his legs still up to his chest. Mark watched, trying to think what to say.

“Can you...” Nicky swallowed. “Can you go make me a cup of tea please?”

“Sure. Yeah. Anything.” Mark stood, feeling his legs tremble. He ran to the kitchen, flicking the kettle on. It took him a minute to realise there was nothing in it, so he turned on the tap to fill it then turned it on again, beginning to scoop three spoonfuls of sugar into a mug. The other room was conspicuously silent. While he was pouring the water in, he heard footsteps travel upstairs to the bedroom. When he came out, they hadn't come back down.

He went upstairs, not sure if he was welcome. The bedroom door was open. Nicky was sat up in bed in a hoodie, the blankets tucked up high around his chest.

“Hey.” He sat down on the other side, handing Nicky the mug. The blonde took it, blowing softly over the surface.

“Hey.” Nicky said quietly, finally looking over at him. “Don't ever do that again.”

“No. I won't. I'm sorry.” He bit his lip. “Are you okay?”

Nicky hitched a shoulder in something like a shrug, taking a sip of his tea. Then he looked back at Mark, studying carefully. Mark tried not to flinch, but by the time Nicky looked away his eyes were burning. He blinked furiously.

Nicky reached out, pulling the blanket back.

“Get in.”

“Right. Yeah.” Mark nodded, kicking off his shoes and sliding in. Nicky was wearing thick tracksuit bottoms underneath the heavy duvet. “Okay.” He leant back against the headboard, not wanting to sit too close. “What now?”

“Just... shut up.” Nicky said quietly. “Give me a second.” He took a few deep breaths, then a few more. He sipped his tea. Mark sat silently, watching while he closed his eyes and took another deep, shuddering breath, his his cheeks still damp with tears. He took another sip of tea, then cradled it to his chest, opening his eyes to look at Mark. “Okay ground rules. Right now.” Mark nodded, willing to agree to just about anything at this point to assuage his guilt. “I ever say stop, you stop. Don't ask why, don't complain. You stop.”

“Yes. Yeah.” Mark nodded. “Of course.”

“Okay.” Nicky exhaled slowly. “You ever do anything else, this ends. That's it. I don't want excuses, or reasons, or apologies. The very moment it happens, you're out.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Is... is everything okay?”

“Come here.” Nicky reached out an arm. Mark went, leaning into his side. A hand stroked his arm gently, comforting, and he looked up, trying to figure out what to say. “Let's just stay here for a little bit, alright?” He kissed Mark's forehead. “Just for a little bit, and then you can go home.”

“I can stay if...”

“No. I promised your parents you'd be home.” Nicky interrupted. He started to slide down in bed, turned away, tugging Mark's hand with him until they were spooned together. He reached out a hand, setting the alarm. “Eleven o'clock, in case we fall asleep.” Then he held both Mark's hands to his chest. Mark didn't see how he could fall asleep, with his heart racing so hard he was sure Nicky could feel it through their clothes.

But soon he felt Nicky drop off, his fingers loosening in Mark's grip. His breaths evened out, his heart slowing until it was beating evenly against Mark's fists.

“Night.” Mark whispered, burying his face in Nicky's hair.

 

*

 

He went back home just after eleven, leaving Nicky in bed and heading downstairs, turning the alarm off so it wouldn't wake him. He was fast asleep, eyes squeezed shut, hands clasped to his chest. Mark kissed him gently on the cheek on the way out, switching off lights and locking the door from the inside before he closed it.

Then he lay back in his own bed, unable to sleep.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Kian's party was boring. Mark kept trying to talk to Shane, but his girlfriend was there and he didn't seem much interested in anyone but her, kept wandering off to snog her behind a grove of trees.

They were in a field out in the middle of nowhere, streamers in the trees and a boombox pumping terrible rock music from a stump. They'd started at Kian's house, being polite to his parents and doing presents and cake. Now there was half a barrel full of ice and bottles and Kian was necking beers like he was in a race with himself. It was packed. Half their school was here, drinking and laughing in the light of the portable electric lanterns shoved in the branches of the trees.

He found a coke, sank down on the grass. There were a group of girls nearby, giggling pointlessly, and he took a sip, feeling bubbles burst on his tongue. Another one of the girls had her top off for some reason. He was pretty sure she was going to regret that in the morning, especially with the circle of hooting guys around her. He sighed, wondering how long he should wait before he could feasibly sneak off.

“Mark!” He looked up. Kian was near the stereo, waving him over. He went, heaving himself off the wet grass. “Do me a favour?”

“What?” Kian's favours were always fun. No, that wasn't right. Kian's favours were always fucking inconvenient.

“Penny said she'll go off with me if I find someone for her friend.” He gestured over at two girls standing in the corner. “She's alright looking. You mind taking a bullet?”  
  
“I do, yeah.” Mark rolled his eyes. “No thanks.”  
  
“Come on. She puts out, and she's cute. What's the problem?”

“Kian...” Mark shook his head. “Look... keep this to yourself, but...” He studied Kian's face, trying to figure out the best way to word this. Whether he should be saying anything at all. But fuck it, he was sick of having this same argument over and over again. “I'm seeing someone.”

“You are not!” Kian gasped. “Who?”

“I can't say, okay? It's not...” He chewed his lip. “Look, don't tell anyone?”

“I don't believe you.” Kian raised an eyebrow. “You're just making shit up.”

“I'm not, but...” He glanced over. “Look, it's someone I'm not supposed to be seeing.”

“You filthy fucking pervert!” Kian clapped his hands together, eyes shining with glee. “Who is it? Is it someone else's girlfriend?”

“No.” Mark shook his head. “It's um... it's not like that. Just...” He glanced around. “Look, it's someone a bit older and I'm not supposed to...”

“Holy fuck, is it someone's mam? Is it a _teacher?”_

“ _No!”_ Mark exclaimed, covering his eyes. God, this had been a bad idea. “They're eighteen and my parents know, alright? Just... they'd be in trouble if someone found out, so...” He put a hand on Kian's shoulder, trying to calm him down long enough to focus “Just keep it to yourself.”

“Okay. Yeah. Holy shit, you fucking champion.” Kian elbowed him. “Good work.”

“Thanks.” Mark said lamely. “Um... so good luck finding someone else.”

“It's fine. Derrick's hard up for it. You're not though, apparently. Good for you.” Kian laughed, waving over his shoulder as he wandered off. Mark watched him go, wishing he was anywhere else.

So he left, making his way across the field through the darkness.

 

*

 

Nicky's lights were off when he got back, so he went into his own house, sneaking upstairs to his bedroom through the dark hallways. He stripped off, climbed into bed, thought about jerking off but then couldn't really be bothered. He felt tired, sort of dirty. He thought maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. Or should have said the truth.

He felt like he was lying, which was worse that keeping silent. Nicky meant a lot to him, he wanted to say something. Say he was happy, despite yesterday's weird breakdown, his own guilt. He thought they'd moved past that though. Everything had seemed fine when he'd popped around that afternoon with a few plates of leftovers from dinner, and Nicky had welcomed him in, kissed him gently, and had let him stay while Nicky tinkered with his bike, oil on his hands and streaked across his forehead while he'd laughed at Mark's pointless stories about school.

He heard the soft putter of the bike just as he was drifting off, sat up in bed embarrassingly fast. His legs got tangled in the sheets, and by the time he was out of bed the door was closed again. He waited, watching, saw the light go on upstairs. Nicky walked across, his shadow thrown across the curtains. Mark watched, feeling himself relax.

Nicky disappeared towards the bed, tugging his shirt off. He waited for the light to click off.

Then a girl appeared from the same direction Nicky had just disappeared to. She propped a foot up on the windowsill, fiddling with a high stiletto, wobbling a little bit, laughing.

Mark felt his heart freeze.

Oh god.

No.

He didn't know if it was the same girl he'd seen a few weeks ago. Didn't care, really. Nicky had slept with other people, he'd had a girl over before he and Mark had gotten together. But Nicky had said he was serious, had come to dinner with his parents, and...

God, he felt so fucking stupid.

He reached out, turning on his light. Saw her head turn towards it. Saw her see him. Hoped she knew. Hoped she fucking knew what she was.

She disappeared from the window suddenly, dropping out of sight. Mark turned off his own light again, yanked the curtains closed and climbed into bed, trying not to cry. Not wanting to give the bastard the fucking satisfaction.

There was a tap on the window. He jumped. Then another. He got back up, looking out, saw a pebble hit the glass an inch from his face.

“Mark...” He heard Nicky hiss, muffled. He opened the window, looking down, feeling heat clog in his throat.

“Fuck off.” He whispered back.

“Mark, I can...”

“Who is she?” He wiped his face, feeling tears streak his cheeks. “I thought...” He swallowed hard. “Don't bother, okay? Just...” He went to close the window again, felt a pebble strike his knuckles, and pulled back yelping in pain.

“Shit sorry, I...” Nicky bit his lip. “Come down, okay? I can explain. I thought you were out and...”

“So it's okay because I'm _out_?” He shook his head. “No, just...”

“Mark...” Nicky looked around, then ran directly under the window. Mark looked down, confused.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm climbing.” Nicky was standing on the windowsill below, up on tiptoes to reach. As Mark watched, he jumped slightly, grabbing for the drainpipe but coming up short. “Give me a minute.”

“You'll kill yourself.”

“No, it's fine, I'm...” He swung sideways, grabbing at the climbing roses his mother had planted. Two came off in hands. “Shit.”

“You'll wake everyone up.”

“So come down, then.” Nicky grunted, scrabbling for the drainpipe again. Mark looked down, trying not to laugh. As he watched, Nicky fell backwards, landing on the grass. He was up again a moment later, trying to get back onto the windowsill.

“Nicky...” He covered his mouth, trying to stop his giggles. It was so ridiculous, laughing through his tears. “Wait.” He hissed, creeping out of his bedroom. He snuck down the hall in his pyjamas, padding down the stairs. When he got to the door, Nicky was already standing in front of it.

“Hey.” He gave Mark a tentative smile. “I could have made it.”  
  
“I know.” Mark sighed, feeling the lump fill his throat. “Who is she?”  
  
“She's um...” Nicky kicked off his trainers, twitching up his pyjama leg. He looked like he'd gotten dressed in a hurry, chucked on whatever was closest. He was wearing a hoodie as well, one drawstring dangling too long from his neck, the other almost disappeared. Mark looked down, trying to squint in the darkness, saw the lattice of...

“Huh?”

“Yeah.” Nicky covered up the fishnets again, sliding his foot back into the shoe. “She's sort of me.”

 

*

 

“Huh?”

Mark had been sitting on the couch for five minutes while Nicky tried to explain. His parents hadn't woken, apparently, and since they didn't expect him home yet there wasn't much harm in going over to Nicky's. It had all been so normal. He'd been made a cup of tea, and Nicky had kicked off his shoes.

“It's not...” Nicky sighed, leaning his chin in his hand. “I'm not like, secretly wanting to be a girl or anything. I just like... occasionally it's a bit sexy, dressing up, having a bit of a wank.” He looked at Mark. “You think I'm mental.”

“No...” Mark managed. “Um.” He took a sip of his tea. “So... how'd...” He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache start to set it. “Is that why your legs are waxed?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Nicky looked down. He'd yanked off the stockings off once they'd gotten back, come back downstairs in his pyjamas. It was a bit of a relief. “I just used to do it for a bit of cash, you know? Like... like do drag shows and that at the nightclubs. It was a lot fun. Sing a few songs, insult a couple of punters, and go home and take it all off again. Then when I stopped I just... dunno. It's nice to not be me occasionally, put on the face and pretend to be someone else. Then when the hair started growing back I got the _worst_ ingrown hairs, so I just kept doing it.” He looked up at Mark. “What um... what are you thinking?”

“I don't know.” He admitted. “I'm glad you're not cheating on me.”  
  
“I'm not. I promise.” Nicky's hands folded around his. “I wouldn't.”  
  
“Okay.” Mark bit his lip. “Erm... how... um...” He looked down at their joined hands, at slender fingers curled in his. “I literally don't know what to ask.” He laughed. “This is weird.”  
  
“It is. I'm sorry.”

“So... you like pretending to be a girl.”

“Sometimes, yeah.” Nicky shrugged. “I like... I don't know. It's just... different. The clothes are cut differently, the fabric... I mean, frankly you haven't had a wank until you've done it through a pair of silk knickers. It's great, but...” He looked up at Mark. “I... sometimes I'd dress up and have sex with other people. Guys or girls; whatever. It was a fun thing to do.”

“Okay.” Mark took a deep breath. “Right.”

“Are you okay?”

“I... yes?” He tried. He wasn't not okay. It was just... “Ehm...”

“It's a bit to process. I'm sorry. I was going to tell you when... you know, when it was relevant. But you were out tonight, and I was in the mood, so...” He sank to his knees, looking up. “I didn't mean for it to go like this.”  
  
“I thought you were cheating on me.”  
  
“I'm not. I'm definitely not.” Nicky gave him a small, affectionate smile. “Can I give you a hug?” Mark nodded, leaned his head into Nicky's shoulder a moment later. He turned, burying his face in long blonde hair, breathing in.

“Are...” He pulled back a little. “Are you wearing perfume?”  
  
“Just a bit.” Nicky winced. “Sorry. Forgot.”

“It's fine.” He said quickly, though he wasn't sure it was. It wasn't not fine. It was just... unexpected.

Okay.

Right.

So.

“Okay. Right. So.” He managed. “Does... she have a name, or?”

“Had a few stage names, I guess.” Nicky shrugged. “I was Lola at one place. Ruby at another one. For about two weeks I was Crystal, but that was a weird time. I don't know, she's always just sort of been Nicky. Still me, but...”  
  
“You don't look like a Ruby.”

“I know. It was the slot going. We were all named after gems. Sapphire was a real bitch, but Pearl was okay. Crystal was supposed to be the lead, and I got to do it a while she was off on holidays once.”

“How long did you?”

“Did my first gig when I was seventeen.” Nicky shrugged. “Needed some cash, could sing a bit. Couldn't drink in the bars, but could perform in them no problem so long as nobody asked. Only did it for a year or so, then fell out of it. My boyfriend didn't like me doing it, so...”

“So you only stopped...”  
  
“About... six or seven months ago, I guess?” Nicky shrugged. “Look, don't take it personally. I don't tell many people. Honestly, once I get all the gear on you'd never know it was me anyway.”

“Oh.” Mark blinked, trying to see it. “Um... what does it look like?”

“Pretty. I don't pass, not in broad daylight, but it's kind of fun trying.” A hand moulded to Mark's knee. “Can I do anything to make this easier?”

“No. It's fine.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. Right. So that's... that's your hobby or whatever. Kink. Thing.”

“Are you okay with that?”  
  
“I... think so.” Mark swallowed hard, not sure what to think. This night had been one fucking weird moment after another. First Kian, now... “Does this have anything to do with last night?”  
  
“Not at all. No.” Nicky shook his head. “That's just... other stuff.” He smiled weakly, looking pained. “If this is too much, I really won't be offended if you want to call it quits. I'll be devastated, but...”  
  
“No. No, definitely not, just...” Mark groaned, flopping down to lay on the couch. A minute later Nicky climbed on top of him, a blonde head landing in his shoulder. “This has been a really long couple of days.” He admitted. Nicky chuckled against his chest.

“How was the party?”  
  
“Awful.” Mark sighed. “Kian kept trying to hook me up with this girl, so I ended up telling him I was already seeing someone, just to get him to fuck off.”

“Was she pretty?”  
  
“I don't know. She was a girl. He just wanted me to distract her so he could shag her friend.” He began to stroke fingers automatically through Nicky's hair, felt the strands slide. “You're pretty.”

“I am.” Nicky agreed, making Mark laugh. “You're not bad looking yourself, handsome.”

“Thanks.” He snorted a laugh. “Can I stay the night?” He didn't want Nicky out of his sight, all of a sudden, not after the fright he'd had earlier. The truth had been a big shock, but the thought of Nicky cheating on him had hurt far worse. Though Nicky trying to climb the drainpipe had been a high point.

“No.” Nicky shook his head. “Your parents expect you home. I'm not having them think you were sneaking over here and having sex.”  
  
“We're not having sex.”  
  
“No, and I don't want them thinking we are. I like them, but you're still their little boy and I have to respect that.”

“I'm not a child.”

“You're _their_ child.” Nicky argued. “You're my boyfriend, but you're their child, and until you're eighteen that comes first.”

“What, so I have to tell them every time we have sex? Do you need to check me out like a library book whenever you want to fuck me?”

“No.” Nicky laughed at that. “We'll have sex when I think we're ready, but staying the night isn't sex, it's about being responsible. You have schoolwork, you have exams coming up. There are more important things. We'll still see each other, but...” He looked up at Mark. “I'm not going to see your grades suffer or have you spend no time with your parents. That's just an excuse for them to tell you that you can't see me as much, and I don't want that for either of us.” He reached up, shifting slightly until they were face to face. “Neither of us are going anywhere. It'll wait.”

“But I miss you...”

“Good. I miss you too.” Nicky laughed. “You're sweet and you make me laugh, and I really like spending time with you, but I still want you to be able to go to university. That was one of the first things you told me, remember? That you couldn't wait to get out of Sligo and see the world.”

“That was before you came.” Mark argued. “I could stay here forever, now.”

“Forever's a big thing to say.” Nicky shook his head. “Don't say it unless you mean it.”

“I do...”

“Less than an hour ago you thought I was cheating on you.” Nicky pointed out. If you'd said forever and I had been, what then?” He leaned in, brushing his mouth over Mark's. “We're not getting married, you're not my property. You're a boy I like and want to spend more time with.”

“I want to spend time with you too.”

“Then you will. But right now...” Nicky glanced at his watch. “It's almost midnight and you're going home to bed, because I have to leave for work in a minute.”

“Oh...” Mark felt his stomach sink. “Can I come over tomorrow?”

“How about I take you out instead?” Nicky suggested. “We can go for a ride somewhere and get food. Somewhere no-one knows us. I'll take you on a date.”

“Really?” Mark giggled, rubbing his face into Nicky's hair. “That sounds good.”

“Good. I'll have to sleep for a bit, but I'll pick you up at two. Ask your parents' permission, though, and make sure you have all your school work done first.”  
  
“Definitely. Yeah.” Nicky sat up, tugged him to his feet, wrapped him up in a hug. Mark could still smell perfume, but it wasn't so bad, especially with a kiss pressing lightly to his ear. He wriggled into it, heard Nicky laugh.

He was halfway back to his house before he realised Nicky had called him his boyfriend.


	9. Chapter 9

“Just up north a bit, maybe stop for some early dinner?”

Nicky was getting the parental interrogation, had been for the last ten minutes or so. Is that motorcycle safe; where are you going; when will you be back; will our son end up a messy splat on the side of the highway? Nicky was taking it all in stride, though, answering politely. Mark's dad seemed okay with it, his mother a little less so.

“And he's got a helmet?”

“He does. He can wear mine and I'll wear the spare.” Nicky nodded. “If you're worried, I'm happy to give you a go on it first? Just up the road and back? It's really safe, I promise.”

“Oh...” His mother looked at the bike, and Mark was surprised to see a little excitement in her face. “I don't know...”

“Jump on.” Nicky urged, holding out the helmet encouragingly. “If we have a good enough time, we'll leave the boys here and we can go to dinner without them.” She sort of giggled at that. Mark's dad crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

“Don't you make off with my wife.”

“You can have a go next.” Nicky winked, swinging his leg over. He helped her on behind him, showed her where to put her feet, and told her to hang on. Then they started to cruise slowly down the street. They couldn't have been going more that ten miles an hour, but she grabbed on, and as they started to shrink into the distance he swore he heard her squeal.

“God, I don't think I've been on one of those since I was about seventeen.” His dad commented. Mark looked up in surprise. “Oh, come on. I live in the country _and_ I grew up in the seventies. Everyone had one. Hell, there was a point in my life when I was actually cool.”

“You were not.” Mark joked, got a laugh. “You've always been a dad.”

“Feels like it, yeah.” He reached over, ruffling Mark's hair. “Got rid of it when a mate of mine died in an accident. Couldn't look at it any more.”

“I'm sorry...” Mark swallowed. “How...?”

“Some idiot wanted to race, and he did. Right into the path of a station wagon. Not a chance. Wasn't wearing his helmet and...” His dad shrugged, eyes starting to look off into the distance. “Be careful. I know Nicky's careful and you're just hanging on for the ride, but... just make sure you're not distracting him. Do what he says, and if you start to get nervous or think you're going too fast, say something.”

“Okay.” Mark nodded solemnly. “Do you miss it?”

“What, being cool?” His dad laughed. “No. It was a hell of a lot of effort, keeping up on what everyone else was doing. Having the right clothes, listening to the right music...” He shrugged. “It just isn't that important, in the end. What people think...” He swallowed, putting a hand on Mark's shoulder. “It only matters what they think of you if it matters what you think of them. If you don't respect someone, it doesn't matter if they respect you or not because they're not worth it.” He looked at Mark. “If someone doesn't want you as you are, then fuck 'em.” Mark looked up in surprise. He didn't think he'd ever heard his dad swear like that before. “That lad likes you, and as long as you like him I reckon you can probably hang the rest.”

“I...” Mark swallowed. “I've been thinking about coming out, maybe.”

“Totally up to you.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed. They could see the bike coming back now, moving slowly. “We'll support you, whatever you want to do, but... It's probably going to be hard. I'm not going to lie to you. I love Sligo, but...”

“Yeah.” Mark nodded. “I was thinking of telling some friends, maybe, just at first and seeing...”

“What do you think they'll say?”

“I honestly don't know. Shane, I think, he'll be fine. Kian...” He shrugged. “What do you think?”  
  
“I think you know better than me.” They could hear the bike now, see it getting bigger and bigger as it rounded the last few houses. “But once you do, you can't put it back, so...” He stepped forward to help Mark's mother off the bike as it pulled up. She was unclipping her helmet, and when she pulled it off her eyes were bright and cheeks flushed. She fell against him, giggling, and handed Mark the helmet.

“Good ride?”

“Your mam can ride with me anyday.” He tipped her a wink and she grinned, leaning into Mark's father. “I reckon we should leave these crazy kids at home. They're way too hardcore for us.”

“Be back by dark.” His mother said breathlessly. “I don't want you on that thing at night.”

“Absolutely.” Nicky nodded. “I'll keep him safe, I promise.”

 

*

 

It was funny feeling. He felt like he was going so fast he couldn't breath, the road rolling behind him like a sickening conveyor belt, the wind whipping his clothes, yanking at the bits of bare skin, snatching at the fingers of his gloves, at the collar of his jacket, but inside the helmet it was almost quiet, the visor down, the wind more felt than heard. He felt like he was going so fast he'd left his stomach back in Sligo.

When he looked to the side, though, they were going the same speed as the cars, the speedometer reading only 80 miles an hour. He grabbed Nicky's waist tighter, not sure if closing his eyes would make it better or worse.

“You okay?”

“Yeah!” Mark shouted back, though he could only hear himself, really, echoing in the confines of the helmet. “It's fast!”

Nicky laughed, swinging them over towards the far lane and going into a side-street. Mark leaned with it, trying to remember what Nicky had told him about turning . A second later they were slowing down, the readout dropping to 40.

“Better?”

“Yeah.” Mark admitted, letting go with one hand to flip up the face of the helmet. The breeze stung his cheeks, but at least he could talk. “Thanks.”

“Course.” Nicky nodded, looking around. They'd been riding for about half an hour, maybe, has passed the marker into Donegal only a few minutes before. Mark felt a bit naughty, like he was fleeing into another county on a motorcycle with his sexy, dangerous boyfriend, where no-one knew them and they could start all over again, maybe find a motel and have sex by the hour. “Keep going north?”

“If you like.” Mark nodded. “Where are we going?”

“Don't know.” Nicky glanced over. “Wait until we see somewhere that looks nice, find somewhere to eat?” He shrugged. “Before I hit Sligo, it was basically all I did for the last few months, just ride around and stop wherever. Never made it this far, though.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“It was. Now it isn't.” The bike slowed further, then stopped in front of a park. Nicky swung a leg over, shuffled until he was facing the other way, his cheeks pink from the wind when he pulled down the bandanna wrapped around his mouth. Mark reached out to touch them, feeling icy skin on his fingertips. “You look beautiful.” Fingers touched his own cheeks a moment later, then pulled away, pressing to Nicky's lips. He touched them to Mark's, smiling when Mark kissed them back.

There was no way to kiss in these things. Mark felt like his whole face was getting squashed, and Nicky had an open-face helmet and sunglasses on, a bandanna to stop the wind. Nicky kissed his own fingers again then, just for a second, sucked them into his mouth. Mark groaned, looking away.

“Don't.”

“Why?” Nicky asked, though his smirk suggested he knew.

“Because I'm going to poke you in the back for the whole rest of the trip if you keep doing that.”

“Sounds distracting.” Nicky agreed, swinging back around the right way, he glanced back, shooting a cheeky grin over his shoulder. “Hang on.”

 

*

 

Ballyshannon was cool and sunny when they finally parked behind a pub. Mark shook the stiffness out of his legs, and managed to stop walking bowlegged after about twenty paces, though his briefs were still sort of trying to become part of him. Nicky laughed, taking his hand.

It was nice. They hadn't really held hands before, certainly not in public, but after wandering through some weekend markets, fingers twisted comfortably through Nicky's the whole time, he didn't think he ever wanted to let go. By the time they ended up by the river, eating ice-cream and sitting on the grass, he didn't think he ever could.

“Are you having a good time?”

“Yeah.” Mark nodded, leaning into Nicky's shoulder. There was an arm around his back and they were under a tree to shade them from the afternoon sun. “Thanks.”  
  
“Thanks for coming.” Nicky's head tilted up and he was pulled into a kiss. He thought about deepening it, but after the other night he wasn't sure. There were people around anyway. A couple of them had shot curious glances their way, but Nicky didn't seem to care so Mark didn't bother to either. “It's been a while since I've been on a date.”

“This is my first date.” Mark admitted. “I mean... I went to the movies with a girl once, but it was because Kian wanted to snog her friend, so...” He shrugged. “This is the best date I've ever been on.”

“Thanks, I think?” Nicky laughed. “This is definitely top five for me.”

“Top five? Piss off.” Mark shoved him lightly. “What did number one do? Take you to the moon?”

“There's still time.” Nicky argued. “It isn't over yet.”

“No.” Mark kissed him again, smiling into it when Nicky rubbed their noses together. “I think I need to do something impressive, get it over the line.”

“Just stay right there and be you.” The arm on his waist squeezed. “I've got this one, alright?”  
  
“Yeah.” Their lips met again. A hand came up, stroking up the back of his neck. Mark felt himself shiver, felt a tongue brush his lips. “I want you.” He murmured, felt Nicky's breath quicken. “You make me feel...”

“You too.” Nicky whispered back. “So beautiful. I want... God, when you turn seventeen I'm going to just...”

“What?” Mark groaned. “Tell me what you'll do.”

“I can't. I'll come in my fucking pants.” Nicky hissed, his mouth opening a little wider and capturing Mark's again. “God, I'll ruin you. I'll just...” He swallowed hard, fingers slipping through his hair. “I want to kiss every inch of you. See you all spread out on my bed and...” He groaned softly, the quiet desperation of his kiss shuddering through Mark's skin. “I'm going to make you feel so fucking good, find everything you like...” He caught Mark's mouth, tongue sliding inside.

“Fuck...” Mark managed to choke out. He couldn't move. He was desperately hard, wanted to touch himself. Wanted to touch Nicky. Couldn't. There were people around and Nicky was breathing hard against him, hand sliding up his thigh. “Nicky...”

“So sexy...” Nicky whispered. “I want you to fuck me so badly.”

“Oh...” Mark closed his eyes. “Stop. I'm really hard.”

“I know. Me too.” Nicky pulled away. His eyes were almost black. Mark swallowed. He felt heavy all over, heat spilling and pooling in inappropriate places. He licked his lips. Nicky did too. “You...” Fingers slid up his jaw. “I almost don't want to. You're so perfect and I'm not... good enough.”

“What are you talking about?” Mark asked. His voice sounded too deep in his own ears. He gulped back his arousal, trying to breathe. Nicky kissed him again. “I'm not good enough for you. You've done all these things, and I'm just...” He shrugged. “Me.”

“Doing a lot doesn't make you better.” Nicky replied. “I've done a lot I'm not proud of. Things I can't take back. I've had a lot of sex with people I shouldn't have, and I've put up with a lot because I didn't think I was worth it.” His fingers traced Mark's nose. “I want to make your first time really special, because you're really worth it. Mine wasn't. Most of them weren't, but you...” He kissed the tip of Mark's nose. “You get a clean slate, and I get to help, so maybe that makes it better. I can be better when I'm with you, because I have someone I don't want to disappoint.”

“You'd never disappoint me...”

“Everyone does, eventually.” Nicky shrugged. “But I'll do my best not to.” He leaned his head on Mark's shoulder. “I didn't know where I was going, but now I do.”

“Where did you want to go?”

“I stopped worrying about that a long time ago.” Nicky sighed. “I wanted to do things. I wanted to play football, for a bit. I thought about joining the Garda as well, but with my juvenile record... well. I didn't finish my leaving cert anyway, so I just sort of did what I could to make some quick money.” He glanced at Mark. “What do you want to do? Have you applied to colleges yet?”

“No. I don't know.” Mark pulled away, and then flopped down, putting his head in Nicky's lap. When he looked up it was into a bright, affectionate smile that made his heart flip. “I thought about wanting to be a teacher, maybe, but after the last few months I think I'm sick of school.” He pulled a face, and Nicky laughed.

“I think you'd be a good teacher.”

“Really?”

“Definitely.” Nicky nodded. “You tell me things, and I want to listen.”

“Because you fancy me.”

“That too, but... I don't know. You're really kind and patient, and I never feel spoken down to when you know something I don't.”

“You know everything, though.” He could feel his cheeks flushing at Nicky's words. Fingers ran through his hair, smoothing out knots.

“I don't.” Mark reached for the hand, bringing it down to kiss the backs of his fingers. Nicky smiled, wriggling it against his mouth, then went back to stroking his hair. “I know stupid things, like how to jimmy open a car door, and how to slip someone a twenty when you want to get your way. Last week you told me about people in a cave watching shadows on the wall and thinking that was reality and it blew my mind.”

“Oh... um... Plato.” Mark nodded. It was part of his Religious Studies, talking about ancient philosophy and the concept of belief. “I don't know, I just thought it was a cool idea. People living in the dark their whole lives, and then when they come out and see the real world they don't believe it, because obviously what they've always seen must be true. But then when they try to go back in they can't see in the dark any more and no-one else wants to go see what they did because they think they'll be blinded too.”

“See, that's insane. And you know about it.”

“My whole class knows, though.”

“Because your teacher taught you.” Nicky pointed out. “You'd be good at teaching other kids. You just taught me about Plato. I just knew he was some old, dead guy.”

“He was probably gay, you know.”

“Was he?” Nicky laughed. “Tell me more.”  
  
“He and Socrates apparently had a thing.” Mark laughed. “Or that's one theory, anyway.”

“They told you that at school?”

“No. I was doing some extra reading and it just came off as a bit... I don't know. Plato was this really devoted student, and when Socrates was sentenced to death for corrupting the youth, Plato basically recorded the whole thing, then on the day he didn't even go to the execution. It just said he was ill. Then after his teacher died he wrote all these works from Socrates' point of view.”

“That's sort of sweet. How did they execute him?”

“Poison.” Mark yawned. It was getting into the afternoon, and the fingers stroking his hair were making him sleepy. “I'm tired.”

“Aw... love.” Nicky smiled. “Are you hungry? I'll get you some dinner.”

“Yeah.” He kissed his fingers, reached up to press them to Nicky's lips. “Thanks for this afternoon, it's been really nice.”

“It has.” Nicky nudged him up, pulled him back in close. “I think you'd be a fantastic teacher. But you should do whatever makes you happy, okay? Don't waste it.”

“You make me happy.” A kiss brushed his shoulder.

“Good.”

 

*

 

The ride back was less terrifying. Partly because Mark was full of the burger and chips Nicky had bought him, partly because he was a bit sleepy from the long day. He had barely slept the night before, not after all that weird stuff with Nicky. He wasn't sure if they were talking about it or not – Nicky hadn't mentioned it at all and Mark felt weird bringing it up.

Lunch had been lovely. Nicky had paid, taking it out of a small roll of cash stuffed deep in his pocket. Mark had looked at it in surprise for a minute, but then figured it was probably just tips from work or something. There seemed a lot of it, though, and at the end of dinner when things seemed to be going really well, Nicky had suddenly gotten nervous-looking, had glanced over Mark's shoulder and said it was probably time to go. It was getting late and he had to be back before dark.

Which made sense, he supposed. It was just that for a second he'd seen Nicky's eyes and they'd looked...

The sun was just coming down as they pulled back in. Nicky climbed off, helped Mark get his helmet off, then leaned in and kissed him.

“Coming in?” Nicky asked. Mark nodded, climbing off the bike as well, following Nicky stiffly up the path.

Nicky made tea, and a few minutes later they were all tucked up on the couch under a blanket, their shoes in a pile on the floor. Nicky kissed his hair.

“You seem like you want to ask a question.” He said. Mark wriggled, winding his feet through Nicky's, their socks catching on each other. “You can, if you like. Anything you want.” Another kiss dropped to his hair, and Nicky nuzzled for a second, snuffling into the top of his head. Mark wriggled again, just enjoying the feel of him.

“Do you...” He swallowed, not sure how to phrase what he was thinking. “The thing where you dress up like a girl...”

“Yeah.” Nicky urged.

“Is that um... is it something you want to do all the time?”

“No.” Nicky hugged him round the waist, pulling him in on a laugh. “No, it isn't. It's just a fun thing to do. Like...” He paused, stroking fingers thoughtfully over Mark's ribs. “Okay, so most of the time a jeans and shirt is fine. It does what it's supposed to do, and it's comfortable. But sometimes you want to put on a suit and feel a bit fancy, you know? I suppose it's sort of like that.” His fingers were still stroking Mark's side. It was really distracting.

“It's like... I like jerking off, but... but when I used the vibrator it was...” He felt his cheeks flush, but it was the only metaphor he could think of.

“Yeah. It's still fun, it's still sexy, but sometimes you gotta kick it up a notch.” Nicky agreed. “Like sex. I think someone said once that being erotic is using a feather, and being kinky is using the whole chicken.” Mark was startled into a laugh. That image was just too weird. “Well, sometimes it's fun to go get a goose instead, just for a change. It's all feathers in the end.”

“You might be the weirdest person I've ever met.” Mark shook his head. “In a good way.” He added, when he saw Nicky raise an eyebrow. “It's... I would never even think to say something like that. Most people wouldn't. But you just...”

“Oh, everybody's got their thing.” Nicky smirked. “No-one likes to talk about it, but believe me, there's always something.”

“Maybe the kind of people you hang out with.”

“No, just everybody.” Nicky shrugged. “I can guarantee you. If it wasn't fun, nobody would do it. And for every weird person, there's another one out there that's weird in the same way. We like to think we're precious snowflakes, but we're not. Seriously. Everyone's got something. Your friends, your teachers... I bet you passed someone in the last week who likes getting their toes sucked. I bet you spoke to someone who likes being stuffed full of food and having someone cum on their belly. There's probably a perfectly straight father of four somewhere who gets his wife to put on a strap-on, peg him in the arse and call him names. And it's fine. It's healthy. Nobody gets hurt, and you get to feel a bit relaxed the next day.”

“And you like to put on a dress.”

“Sometimes.” Nicky shrugged. “Sometimes I like to shove a vibrator up my arse. I used to not mind a bit of a spanking, now and then, from the right person. One time I was dating this boy who liked to dress up as a cat. Not my scene, but nice lad, so whatever.”

“A cat?”

“Sure. There's loads of them. Last I heard he was settling down with a girl who liked to pretend to be a badger. They seemed really happy, so good on them.”

“That's just weird.”

“Not for them.” Nicky poked him slightly in the side. “I bet your parents even have a thing.”  
  
“They do not!” Mark put his hand over his ears, feeling himself go bright red. “Stop it!”

“What, you think it's been all two strokes every couple of years to make a baby? Come on.” Nicky laughed. “I bet your dad's eaten out your mam.”

“No!” He hunched his arms up, trying to shut Nicky out but unable to stop himself laughing at the cheeky grin on Nicky's face. “Nicky!”

“I bet when she first saw him, she thought 'fuck, I would love to have that lad spunk on my tits.”

“NO!” He threw himself over the back of the couch, looking up theatrically from his new hiding place. Nicky was laughing harder now, leaning over to slap playfully at him. “Stop. Please stop.”

“Okay.” Nicky laughed. “What's yours? You have a thing?”

“I don't know.” Mark climbed hesitantly back over, feeling his face sting under a blush. “I like you. I don't know much else.”

“Ah, we'll find it.” Nicky pulled him back in, kissing his flaming cheek. “We've got loads of time.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

Nicky was... god, it was hard to find the words. He didn't even see Nicky much for the next two weeks, only for an hour here and there, some days not at all if Nicky thought he needed to study or go spend time with his parents. It was funny, but where someone else telling him to go home and have dinner with his family might seem patronising, there was a gentle smile on Nicky's face that just said he was looking out for him, that he wasn't trying to get Mark out of his hair or anything. That when he got there for his increasingly brief visits, that it was the best part of Nicky's day.

He spent all of Saturday there, just hung out. Not even kissing, really, or doing anything. Just hanging out, watching TV, going for a ride on the bike. They played cards, kicked a football in the backyard. Nicky was very good, was sliding and doing tricks all over the place, dribbling the ball and calling Mark a cheat when he was grabbed around the waist and tackled to the ground. They went back inside, all covered in grass and mud, and Mark went to shower while Nicky waited politely in the bedroom for his turn.

By the time the next Saturday rolled around, Mark was bloody desperate. He'd been adding up the minutes, the seconds that he'd spent with Nicky, and it didn't sound like close to enough. He took his books with him, hoping if he studied that Nicky would let him stay. He did, making Mark a sandwich and reading a book at the other end of the couch while Mark sat going through his notes, highlighting anything that looked important.

“What are you reading?” Mark asked. Nicky looked up, brushing hair out of his eyes. It was starting to get really long now, just about touching his shoulders.

“Erm... dunno. Pinched it out of your pile.” Nicky turned it, looked at the cover. “Animal Farm.”

“You read it before?”

“Nope.” Nicky turned back to his page. He was only a few in, had it propped against his curled-up knees. “S'not bad.”

“Yeah, I liked it.” Mark nodded. “I have to write an essay on it for English.”

“What will you say?”

“Don't know yet.” Mark yawned. “Probably something about communism. It's obvious, but it's an easy pass.” He dragged his highlighter across a line from his history text. “Maybe something about how the lack of a particular protagonist shows the plight of the masses, just to fancy things up. It's not due until next Thursday.”

“Oh.” Nicky looked back down at the book. “I don't like this pig. He seems like he's working for everyone, but he seems shifty to me. Says what people want to hear, but...” He pursed his lips. “Reckon he's just getting them on side so they won't blame him later when he turns out to be a dick.”

“More or less, yeah.” Mark looked up, surprised. “You're not supposed to know that yet.”  
  
“Seen enough of that sort.” Nicky shrugged. “It's all clever words, until one day you realise there's been a knife in your back the whole time, and you didn't notice because they kept distracting you.” He shifted, pulling the book in closer. “I hope he fucking gets what's coming to him.”  
  
“Do you think he will?”

“Probably not, no.” Nicky sighed. “That's not how the world works, is it?” He went quiet then, focusing back on the page. Mark went back to his notes, but every now and then he'd look up, see Nicky's eyebrows knitted in concentration, or his lips moving slowly as he got really involved. It was sort of cute. Mark hadn't though of Nicky as much of a reader, but he seemed really engaged.

“Well, motherfucker.” Nicky put down the book, finally. Mark looked up at the clock. More than three hours had passed. “Shithead went over to the enemy.”

“Or he was the enemy all along and didn't realise it himself.” Mark pointed out. Nicky nodded.

“Yeah, well, it's easy to say you're doing the right thing when the right thing just happens to be the same as what you want.” Nicky tossed it back on the pile. “Sounds about right.” He got up, stretched. “Fuck, I need to pee.”

“Bring me back something.” Mark joked, got a laugh. Nicky went to the bathroom, came back, kissed him on the back of the neck. Mark wriggled, looking around. “Hey.”

“Hey.” A kiss brushed his cheek, arms coming around his shoulders. “Tell me one thing I don't know about you.”

“Er...” Mark glanced around, got another kiss. “Like what?”  
  
“Anything. I like finding things out about you.”

“Okay.” He pursed his lips, trying to think. “I have a birthmark on my back.”

“Do you? Let's see.” Nicky reached down, tugging at his t-shirt. Mark laughed as it was pulled up. “So you do.” He poked it. Mark wriggled away, batting at Nicky's hands. “That's very cute.”  
  
“Leave it.” Mark giggled knocking his books to the ground while he tried to twist away. “That tickles.”

“You're ticklish?” Nicky raised an eyebrow. “That was a dangerous thing to tell me. Now I know two new things about you.”

“Bastard.” Mark shoved him away, then changed his mind and grabbed him, dragging him into his lap. Nicky snorted, sinking into the embrace. A head landed on his shoulder, Nicky sighing happily, kissing his throat. “My brother has the same one.”

“Creepy.” Nicky looked up. “Yours is more interesting, though."

“I hope so.” Their lips pressed together, a soft sigh puffing over them when Mark tilted his head. “I'm done studying.”  
  
“Mmm...” His mouth was coaxed open. Mark allowed it, his hands trailing up Nicky's back. “I'm not.” A thumb stroked over his jaw. “I'm doing research.”

“You could probably do more if you started looking a bit...” Mark caught his lips again, fingers feeling the curve of muscles under his hands. “Lower?”

“Nice try.” The kiss broke, and he felt it move up his jaw. “Very tempting.” Breath rushed over his ear. Mark groaned, arching up. “So sexy.”  
  
“God, please...” Mark breathed, his voice caught in the tangle of arousal starting to tendril through his body. “Please I... I'm almost seventeen. It's...”

“No.” Nicky murmured. “Two more weeks.”

“Please...”

“No.” The word puffed over his throat, glancing off damp skin. “Soon.”

“Oh...” Mark closed his eyes, head tilting back. “Something. Let me do something.”

“Soon.” Nicky said again. “Then I'm gonna let you do everything.” He chuckled, deep and throaty, and Mark had to concentrate to stop himself stumbling over the edge. Nicky pulled back a little, feather-light kisses trickling up his cheek, across his eyelids, down his nose. “Stay here the night before your birthday, okay? Then at midnight...” The sentence was left undone, but Mark got the picture. “Ask your parents if you can stay.”

“They'll know...”

“And?” Nicky asked. “As long as they say yes, I don't care.” Kisses dotted down his chin, tickled his collarbone. “You're delicious.”

“Nicky...” Mark gasped, pushing up. He couldn't get contact, though. “God...”

“Two more weeks.” Nicky promised. He pulled away. Mark groaned, covering his eyes as he tried to focus. He heard another laugh, this one hoarse, rough with lust. Fingers ran through his hair. “Then you can have me any way you want.”

“I want...” Mark took deep breaths. “I want to make you feel good.”

“You do.” A hand caught his, pulling it down. And then... oh, that was hard. That was really hard. “See?”

“Jesus.” He bit his lip, trying not to lose control, embarrass himself. The hand was pulled away a moment later.

“Soon.” Nicky promised. He swallowed, his eyes dark. “Really soon.”

 

*

 

“What's the plan for your birthday?”

“Don't know that there is one.” Mark picked at his muesli bar. He'd grabbed it on the way out that morning, but now he wasn't sure he wanted it. He sort of wanted something a bit hotter, more substantial, but he didn't have any money and this would have to do. “Exams start a couple of days later, so I'll probably just be studying.”

It was such a weird thought. He only had a week left of classes, and then that was it. High school was basically done. There were exams, of course, and there was a school dance once they were all over, a last chance to see everyone, and then...

He'd started putting in his university applications. Nicky had helped, sort of, or at least he'd sat and peered over Mark's shoulder, watching him tick boxes and fill in questions. He thought he might go with teaching, after all. Nicky was right – it was something he wanted to do, something that made him happy, and honestly... well, he didn't know what else to do. At least if he got a spot as an undergraduate and it wasn't for him he could always switch to a different major. He was more nervous about that than the exam results, to see where he'd end up going. He'd applied to Trinity, Cork, DCU, NUI Galway, Limerick... It was silly, he knew, and Nicky scolded him for thinking it, but he sort of wanted to go wherever Nicky would be, even if it meant just going to Sligo IT with Shane.

But Nicky had said no, he should go wherever he was going to have the best chance, that no matter what they'd make it work. Mark had asked if maybe Nicky would want to move, if they could get a place together, and Nicky had said no, it was way too soon for that, but he would love to do it one day. Then he'd leant in and kissed Mark's cheek, his eyes all sincerity, and Mark had felt the happiest glow run right up from his toes.

“But you have to do _something!_ ” Kian protested. “Come on, let me organise it.”

“It's fine. I'll probably just do dinner with my family and Ni...” He shut his mouth, realising what he'd been about to say. It was too late. Kian's eyebrows were crawling up his forehead.

“It starts with an 'N'?” Kian had been fishing for information since his birthday party, and Mark had managed to dodge questions fairly efficiently, dancing around pronouns and just flat out refusing to answer when that didn't help. “Niamh?”

“No.” Mark shook his head, taking another bite of his muesli bar.

“Nina? Noelle? Nadia?” Mark shrugged, enjoying the rare sight of Kian trying to think. “Natasha? Natalie? Nancy? Nadine?” Mark laughed, shaking his head again. “Nicole? Nicola? Nikki?” He must have seen Mark's face change. He hadn't meant for it to, but Kian was already pouncing. “Nikki?”

“Leave it, Kian.”

“Nikki, is it? Don't know a Nikki, do I? Where's she from?” Mark sighed.

“Dublin.”

“Ooh, city girl! You fucking dog!” Kian laughed. “How long's that been happening?”  
  
“Couple of months.” Mark shrugged. “It's going well, you know? I think we just kinda... we work. It's easy. We get each other.”

“So you've shagged her then?”

“If I had, I wouldn't tell you.” Mark rolled his eyes, reaching out to steal a couple of Kian's crisps.

“So you haven't.”

“It's not...” He sighed. How did he even begin to explain to someone like Kian? What it was like, being the high point of somebody's day, of slow, chaste kisses that didn't need to go anywhere. Of falling asleep on the couch on a lazy afternoon and waking up to having your feet rubbed. Of talking about stupid things and finding out stupid things and hearing about all the strange, messy history that made Nicky who he was, even though sometimes Mark would feel a little sad for what he'd gone through, a little inexperienced in comparison. But then he was kind of glad he was, because he couldn't imagine getting that experience from anyone but Nicky, who was so different he made Mark feel normal. Who never made Mark feel silly. Who Mark lo...

“You wouldn't get it, Kian.” He said finally.

“What wouldn't I get?”

“Just...” Mark shook his head. “I don't know. Until you've had it, you don't...” He looked up at his friend, who was staring at him in confusion. “It's not about shagging, it's about having a best friend.”

“I'm your best friend.”

“Yeah, but I don't want to shag you.” Well not any more, and looking at Kian he couldn't see how he ever did. He was just... immature. Pointless. “This is the real thing, I think.”

“Well, fuck.” Kian leaned back, crossing his arms. “You dark horse, you.” Mark laughed, not sure what to say. “You gonna bring her to your birthday? I need to interrogate her now. Make sure she's gonna be good enough for you.”

“Already is.” Mark said softly, taking a sip of his drink to hide a blushing smile.

 

*

 

“What do you want for your birthday?” Nicky was under the bike, his face smeared with grease while Mark watched him work. It was funny – he was totally useless at anything else handy, but he seemed to have no problem with this, was fiddling about rather confidently, though occasionally he did swear out loud.

“I don't know, really.” Mark shrugged. “I don't need anything.”

“It's not about what you need, it's about what you _want_.” Nicky glanced over. “It's a birthday. You should be getting something flashy and pointless. What do you _want?_ ”

“Nothing. You.” That got a smile.

“That doesn't count. I'm getting you in return, so it evens out. Come on, everybody wants something.”

“What do you want?”

“I want this front brake to stop acting like a shit.” He smacked it slightly with the heel of his hand. “It keeps seizing up on me. I swear I'll be over the handlebars and under a lorry one day.”

“Please don't.” Mark felt the image twist his stomach.

“I'll do my best.” Nicky squinted, propping himself up on his elbows to look closer. “I think that's it. Fingers crossed. This is what I get for buying one second hand.”

“How long you had it?”

“About three months, I guess?” Nicky shrugged. “It was working fine until now, just all of a sudden it started being a dickhead for no reason.” He crawled out, wiping his hands on a rag. “You haven't answered my question yet.”

“You haven't answered mine.”

“I asked first.” He got a cocky smirk that felt like it was licking up his spine. Nicky did that to him all the time. God, just another week and then that was it. Then he would be seventeen and Nicky would...

God.

“I don't know. When I was younger I would have said, like, a toy or a CD or something, but... I guess now it all feels a bit silly.” Nicky was standing up, stepping a bit closer. Mark stood up, taking the rag and beginning to wipe grease off his boyfriend's forehead. “I don't know. To get good enough marks to get into the right universities. To spend the day with you. I probably need some stuff for school, especially if I'll be going away, so... I don't know. What do you want?”

“It's not my birthday.”

“Yeah, but...” Mark finished, dropped a kiss to a forehead that still smelled oily. “In general. What do you want?”

“I want...” Nicky tilted his head, chewing his lip as he thought. “If I'm being totally selfish and not thinking about what I need?” Mark nodded. “I want to feel like I don't have to worry any more. Like everything is sorted out and all I have to do is slot in the details. I want to not think about what's going to happen all the time and just let it happen, knowing things are going to be okay in the end.”

“You don't think they will?”

“I think...” Nicky reached up a hand, tracing it down Mark's cheek. “I think if I relax, for even a second, something's going to creep up and ruin everything, and I don't want that because I'm really happy. For the first time in my whole life, I think. So that's what I want.”

“To not worry.”

“Yeah.” Nicky nodded. “That'd be really nice.”

“Are you worried now?”

“I'm always worried.” Nicky took the rag back, wiped it over the back of his neck. “You live in my shoes for a bit, and you find that if you don't look over your shoulder, even for a second, there's already someone creeping up behind you with a knife out.”

“Nicky...” There was a lump in Mark's throat. Nicky smiled, though.

“It's fine. Now I get to look over your shoulder instead, which is sort of nice. I don't really mind what happens to me, as long as...” He swallowed hard. “I don't want that for you. I don't ever want that. So if there's something I really want, it's for you to have that instead, because I can't. Not any more.”

“Things are going to be okay, though.” Mark pointed out. “You're here. You have your house and your bike and me and...” He slid his hand into Nicky's. “I want to make it better.”

“You do. More than you realise.” He leaned in, touching his lips to Mark's. It was soft and so heartbreakingly sweet Mark wanted to cry. “Come inside.” Nicky said softly. “Let's just... let's just sit for a bit, okay?”

“Okay.” Mark nodded, letting himself be pulled into the house.

 

*

 

“Hello, Mrs. Mark's Mam.” Nicky was rocking slightly on the front step, looking more adorable than could be possible. “I was wondering if Mark was busy, please?”

“I don't know.” His mother was already laughing. “What did you want him for?”

“Wanted to see if I could take him for a walk, maybe buy him something to eat? He always works so hard I thought he might need some exercise.” Nicky glanced over her shoulder, winking at Mark, who was stood in the hall, watching. He'd seen Nicky coming across the road and already been at the bottom of the stairs by the time he'd knocked. “It's his birthday in four days. Did you know?”

“I did.” She was still laughing. “I was there for the first one.”

“And a fine job you did. Didn't drop him on his head, did you? It's just sometimes he sees lads who are a bit of bad news. I worry about his judgement.”

“I don't.” She looked over her shoulder. “Markus, you have a visitor.”

“Not him.” Mark smiled back. “He's a bad influence.”

“He's got a point.” Nicky leaned in the doorway. He was wearing tight jeans and a baggy t-shirt, looked like sex on a stick. Mark felt almost wrong about having his mam in the room when he was having such impure thoughts. “One time I saw him stay up after eleven. I mean, can you imagine?”

“I'm very disappointed.” She agreed. “Will you have him back before dark?”

“Definitely.” Nicky reached out, and Mark stepped a little closer, threading his fingers through Nicky's. “Before he turns into a pumpkin and all.”

“Then yes, you may.” She stepped away. Mark filled the gap, pulling into Nicky's side. “Be safe.”

“Always.” Nicky promised. By the time the door closed, they were halfway down the path, Mark dashing to catch up.

“Where are we going?”

“Don't know.” Nicky shot a cheeky grin over his shoulder. “Somewhere.”

“Cool.” They slowed down once they reached the road, fingers sliding back together. “I asked my parents.”

“And?”

“They said it was fine.” He bit his lip, looking at Nicky, who was smiling broader all of a sudden. “We're going to have sex in three days.”

“You bet we are.” Nicky chuckled. “How was your last day?”

“Long.” Mark admitted. “They just made us cram, basically. Here's all the stuff on the test, don't panic but make sure you learn all of it really quickly.” He leaned into Nicky's side. “I think I'll be okay.”

“You should. All you do is study.” Nicky pointed out. “You'll be perfect.”

“I already am.” Mark teased. “Let's go to the lough. It's quiet there. We can be by ourselves.” Nicky nodded, and they backtracked a little, heading down the hill. He could already smell the water from here, the trees starting to close in as they went further. “Come to my birthday party.” He decided, the words out of his mouth before he could even think the concept over. “As my date.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Mark nodded. “Fuck it. It's just exams, and then it's all over anyway. I don't give a shit who knows.”

“Okay. I'd love to.” Nicky grinned, turning to walk backwards, looking at him. “Where will it be? So I can make an entrance.”

“Out back of mine, if you can believe it.” Kian had insisted, his mam had insisted, so it was all happening, more or less without his input. His mother had been organising food all week, asking if he wanted anything special. The only thing he was really interested in was making a couple of mix tapes to play in the background, otherwise he couldn't care less. Kian was inviting people. Mark didn't know who, but he didn't really care. As long as Nicky was there, he was fine.

“Fancy.” Nicky nudged him. “At least I don't have to go far.”

“I'll make sure there's a cab to get you home.” Mark agreed. “What kind of entrance will you make?”

“Hi. Hello. I brought a few bags of crisps?” Nicky suggested. “Extravagant, I know.”

“Yeah.” The trees were closing in. There was a bench nearby, an old overgrown one. He sat down, pulling Nicky into his side. Leaves tickled the backs of his legs. “I want to show you off, to be honest. I'm a bit proud of you.”

“You're mental.” But when Nicky looked up, he was blushing slightly. “I wish I had someone to show you off to. I'd be like, this is my boyfriend and he's gorgeous and smart and you can't have him.”

“Can't I?”

“Nope. Mine.” Nicky kissed him. “All mine.”

“Definitely.” Mark rubbed their noses together. “I'm really stupidly happy.”

“Good.” Nicky rubbed back. “Will I get to meet your friends?”

“I only have one, and he's a bit of a dick.” Mark explained. “Sorry in advance.”

“Ooh, the mythical Kian?” Nicky snorted. “He's the one you used to fancy, yeah?”  
  
“For a while. Seems a bit stupid now. Doesn't compare.”

“Obviously.” Lips touched his. Then again. Mark sighed, threading his fingers through long hair and tugging gently, deepening it while he did. “Oh.”

“Oh.” Mark echoed, sucking in a breath when it was kissed away from him. “I need you.”

“You don't.”

“I want you.” Mark added. “I thought of you last night.” It was true. He hadn't returned the vibrator yet, was still using it. “Your light was out and I missed you.”

“God, I missed you too.” His mouth was pulled in again, a hand tugging on the back of his neck. “I was serving these drunk morons, and all I could think of was that time you were a drunk moron.”

“I was classy.”

“You were shitfaced.” Nicky teased. “It was adorable. I'm glad you were, honestly, or you might never have kissed me.”

“You wouldn't have kissed me?”

“No. It was hard but... no.” Nicky shook his head, resting his forehead against Mark's. “But then I tasted you, and it was like Red Bull and puke and I was just gone.”

“Sexy.”

“Just nice.” Nicky corrected. “It was you, and that was all I really wanted.”

“You got me.”

“I did.” A smiling kiss touched his lips. “And I'm not letting you go.” Fingers twisted into his back pockets, hands squeezing slowly on his arse. Mark tilted his head, sinking into another of Nicky's kisses.

 


	11. Chapter 11

If waiting days was hard, waiting hours was worse. On the morning of the day before Mark's birthday he got up, brushed his teeth, had a shower, and looked at the clock. He only had another seventeen hours to go. He went downstairs, had a bowl of cereal. His parents were at work. His brothers at school. Exams started on Monday, so he still had five days to study. He probably should be doing that, but he couldn't even consider finding the focus, not with sixteen and a half hours to go.

He watched what felt like hours of cartoons. There were still fifteen hours left. He thought about going around to see what Kian was doing, but didn't know how to talk to him without blurting out everything he was thinking and feeling at once. He wanted to go see Nicky, but the older boy would still be sleeping off work from last night and Mark didn't want to disturb him.

He didn't know what to do with himself. It was the anticipation, the knowing that in less than a day he was going to be... well. Not a virgin, for one. Nicky's, for another. Wrapped up in pale skin and blonde hair and blue eyes that sparkled like there was a light in them. Kissing him and not having to stop. Not having to be told no, that he was too young. Getting to hear yes. Getting to touch, to feel, to hold. To lick, suck, fuck, as filthy as that sounded. It wasn't though. It was Nicky. He was going to do that with Nicky, and Nicky was going to do that with him.

And there were still fourteen hours to go.

 

*

 

The last thing Mark's mother said to him before he left the house that evening was 'be safe'. He almost shrank into nothing from sheer embarrassment before he could even make it down the path. When he turned back, though, to defend himself, she was giving him a smile that was sort of sad. He went back, hugged her, and promised to be back early the next morning for presents and breakfast She said to take his time.

He didn't think taking his time was something he could do. Not when Nicky opened the door, leaning in the frame like he'd been there waiting for hours. A hand slid into his, tugging him through, pulling him close and squeezing while the other closed on the back of his neck.

“Now?” Mark pleaded.

“Not yet.” Nicky laughed, kissing him. “Soon.”

“Now?” Mark asked a few hours later, while they were halfway through dinner. Nicky shook his head.

“Soon.”

“Now?” It was past eleven and they were snuggled up on the couch. A kiss dropped to the back of his hair. Mark wriggled happily.

“Almost.” Nicky promised. “Stop being impatient.”

“I can't.” Mark twisted, looking up. “Soon?”

“Soon.” Nicky promised. He glanced at his watch. “Really soon.”

“Nobody would know if we started early.”

“I would.” He argued. “I'm going to do this right.”

“Why's it so important?” Mark asked. “I'll be the same person I am right now. I'm not going to suddenly grow a foot taller or anything.”

“Because it is.” Fingers stroked his hip. There was an arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him backwards against Nicky's chest. “It's important to me.”

“Okay.” Mark sighed, turning on his side and nuzzling in to a warm neck. “Do you think anything will change afterwards?”

“Yes. No.” The fingers trailed up his stomach, pushing under his shirt. “It won't change the way I feel about you.”

“How's that?”

“Not yet.” Nicky murmured, kissing his ear. “Seventeen minutes.” He brushed hair off Mark's temple, his other hand sliding around to his back, thumb drifting over the base of his spine. “You feel good already.”

“You always feel good.” Mark closed his eyes, trying to focus on feeling of that hand drifting a little lower, pushing his jeans down just enough to skate over the spot where his back started to round out into his arse. “That feels good.”

“I want to grab your arse.” Nicky breathed. “Every time you bend over I think about holding it still and fucking it.”  
  
“Yes...” Mark shivered. “Please...”

“How do you want it?” The voice in his ear was low, huskier than usual. “Where do you want to start?”

“I don't know.” He admitted, hearing a tremble in his own words. “Show me what you like.”

“We'll need days.” Nicky chuckled, kissing his hair. “I want to spend hours on every bit of you.” The hand pulled out of his shirt, began to drift down his thigh. “You're so warm.” Fingernails bit into the back of his leg. “Go upstairs.” He urged. “Get into bed. I'll be up in a minute.”

“I want to stay here with you.”

“Go.” Teeth scraped his ear. “Go. You're too gorgeous.” Mark shifted, felt how hard Nicky was underneath him. “Fifteen minutes.”

“Too long.” Mark groaned. “Now.”

“Soon.” Nicky said again, nudging him lightly. “Go.”

 

*

 

“Two minutes.” Nicky said. Mark felt that was about as long as he was going to be able to last. He was on a knife-edge already, had been all day, but worse since Nicky had come upstairs, climbed onto the bed next to him and kissed him.

It was a hard kiss, and deep. Mark had thought they'd been kissing before, but this was different. This was a kiss that said Nicky wasn't trying to be careful, wasn't trying to control himself. This was a kiss that fucked his mouth, that stole his breath, that caught his tongue up and turned it back on itself. This was a kiss that had a hand on his arse, another on the back of his neck while they sat on the bed, Mark sitting up, Nicky straddling his thighs and over him, their breaths coming in hard, rocking gasps while Mark tried to figure out how to breathe.

“One.” He heard Nicky growl. Mark glanced over at the clock. 11:59. He started clawing at Nicky's belt, managed to fumble it off. Fingers grabbed at the bottom of his t-shirt. Lifted it. Yanked it over his head and then Nicky was wrenching his own off, pressing them together and oh, that was hot and felt so fucking good, Nicky rubbing against him, hands stroking up his ribs, down his sternum, across his belly while he cupped his hands over Nicky's chest, feeling nipples thorn into his palms.

“Now?” Mark gasped. Nicky laughed.

“Soon.” He was already unbuttoning Mark's shorts. “Soon.” He glanced over at the clock. “At midnight, I'm going to suck your dick. You okay with that?”

“Please...” He was already lifting his hips, trying to grind into Nicky's face. Nicky held him down with one arm across his groin, the other pulling down the zip and parting the fabric. He hadn't bothered to wear boxer shorts, so when his erection bobbed free a second later, he saw Nicky lick his lips in surprise.

“That's gorgeous.” Nicky looked up, licking his lips still, glanced at the clock, looked back at Mark, who was just trying to think past the concept of Nicky that close to his cock. “Babe?”

“Yeah?” Mark managed. Nicky raised an eyebrow.

“Happy Birthday.” Nicky laughed, right before he sank down on Mark's cock.

Fucking hell.

“Fuck...” Mark heard himself groan. It was wet. Hot and wet and slick around him. It went deep right away, Nicky's eyes closed as he snuffled into Mark's groin. Then they opened again while he licked back up, his hand curling around the base while he sucked slowly at the head, tongue drawing circles in the cavern of his mouth. “Nicky...”

“You taste amazing.” He heard Nicky growl while he licked down the side and back up. “I want to come just from tasting you.”

“Fuck.” Mark managed again. He didn't know what he'd expected for his first time, had thought maybe Nicky would go slow, that it might be all gentle and romantic like it was in the movies. It wasn't this, though, watching blue eyes burn up at him while Nicky slurped his way around the shaft, licking, pressing butterfly kisses that tickled like torture. A hand slid into his and he gripped it hard, trying to ground himself.

“Mmm...” Nicky was still looking up, his eyes studying, smirking a little bit. “Once I make you come, I'm going to do it again. And again. All fucking night.” He promised. “So don't worry.” Mark appreciated it, through the haze of his impending orgasm. He didn't want to finish too soon and have it all over in five minutes. He wanted...

“Nicky...” He gasped. A finger had just swept over his entrance, mouth laving at his balls and up the shaft. “Please...”

“Is this how you touch yourself?” Nicky asked. “When you think about me?”

“Yes...” He closed his eyes, head tipping back into the pillow. Felt heat close around him again, felt an affectionate giggle ripple up the length, the finger pressing a little harder. “Oh please...” It pressed harder again, rocking slightly to work past the resistance. Then oh. Oh! Fuck. He bit his lip, shifting his legs to distract himself. Nicky was moving, though, head bobbing while that finger screwed in slowly, lighting up every nerve on the way past.

Mark heard himself cry out, fisted a hand in his hair to distract himself. He felt the finger crook, felt Nicky hit that spot, his climax swelling through him like a wave about to break. Looked down into teasing blue eyes, at pouting lips that were slick and hungry around him, and god, there was the crest, his hand seizing into Nicky's hard, lip bitten to stop the noise, and that finger was moving, was stroking him from the inside out and...

“I'm...” He tried to gasp out a warning, heard Nicky moan, felt him suck harder, finger press down and he was gone. Just gone, feeling his whole body lift out of itself, tethered to the bed by Nicky's hand.

“Mmm...” Nicky was licking his lips, crawling back up. Kissing him even though Mark couldn't catch enough breath to kiss back, tasting himself on Nicky's tongue. Fingers stroked over him, squeezing gently at the damp, spent flesh Nicky had just abandoned, and he jerked, gasping at the sensitivity. Nicky laughed.

“Fuck.” Mark managed.

“Now you're seventeen, we can do that all the time.” Nicky promised.

“Let me recover from this one first.” He gasped, laughing when Nicky smirked at him. “Fucking hell.”

“Bit less desperate?” Nicky asked. Mark nodded, his chest still heaving. “Good.” A hungry gaze caught on him. “Because now we can go slow.”

 

*

 

It was past two in the morning. Mark couldn't say with any real certainty what they'd been doing for two hours, just knew that it had been a blur of sweat and flesh and slow, long kisses that felt like they'd go on forever. Nicky had wound around him like a snake, confusing his senses then making everything clear again with careful touches and whispered instructions.

He didn't know what he was doing, but Nicky seemed not to mind. Just let him do whatever he thought seemed a good idea, then would reach down and carefully adjust his hand, wink at him, cry out when he made a movement, gasp when he touched a spot, hiss in slow, wanting breaths, rolling around on the bed until Mark was dizzy and trying not to come again.

Fingers pressed into him again, two of them. He hadn't done two before, but it was okay, was fantastic, actually, feeling them scissor him open, feeling the sudden stretch while Nicky distracted him with kisses, pressing them to every inch of him.

He felt used, but in a good way, felt the dampness of when Nicky had lay on top of him, mapping him out in a way that made Mark feel almost embarrassed at the scrutiny, but Nicky had nipped down his hipbones, licked up over his navel, fingers sliding down his thighs and mouth sliding up his chest, he just felt wanted, gloriously turned on and overwhelmed. Wanted to do that back, wanted to see Nicky, but couldn't, not when all his senses were drowned in clever touches and loving bites.

A third finger nudged in, and he felt it get a little harder, like it was splitting him. Then they moved a little, thrusting slowly, and he didn't mind that at all. He groaned, feeling his body rock back into it. Heard Nicky laugh.

“You look gorgeous.” He said softly. “So beautiful.”

“Nicky...” He breathed, arching when the fingers massaged the right spot. “I'm so close.”

“I know you are.” Nicky's voice was gentle, his fingers tracing slow circles around Mark's navel while he knelt in front of him, between the cradle of Mark's flopped-out thighs. He was hard, his cock jutting from his lap, and Mark couldn't stop looking at it, wanting to touch again, like he had less than an hour ago when Nicky had rolled into his hand, making soft, whimpering moans against his ear and come between them with a gasping purr, his release warm and wet, still marking their skin and making them sticky. “Take a deep breath.”

Mark did, closing his eyes.

“You sure you want to do this?”

“Yeah.” Mark nodded. He couldn't think of anything he wanted more. “Please.”

“You can change your mind. If I'm halfway in and you don't want to, I won't be upset.”

“I know.” He opened his eyes, looking up into a concerned smile. “I want to.”

“Okay.” The fingers twisted a little deeper, and that felt... He gasped, trying not to come. Then they drew back out, making slow circles around the edge of the opening. Nicky shuffled in, pushing a pillow under his arse. There was a condom on the bed, Nicky had grabbed it when he'd gotten the lube he'd used on his fingers before pushing in. And oh lube was a good idea. It had been okay without for one finger, but now it was all slippery and wet, caressing him and making it even better, making those fingers move like they were a part of him.

He watched Nicky roll on the condom, watched it stretch around the length of him, the girth. Wondered what that would feel like. He looked a little bigger than average, definitely larger than three fingers. He spread some lube, his eyes fluttering closed as he stroked himself. Then he moved a little closer.

“Take a deep breath.” Nicky said again. Mark did, shuddering when he felt the head nudge him, blunt and exciting. “One more.”

“I know how to breathe, Nicky.” Mark laughed, got a grin back.

“I know. But I'm trying to remember how to.” Nicky admitted, looking down. “I've wanted this for a really long time.”

“Me too.” Mark murmured. “I...” He swallowed. “I think I'm in love with you.”

Nicky stared at him for a long moment, silent. Mark wasn't sure what to do whether he'd just said a really stupid thing. Finally, Nicky smiled.

“Say it again when we're not all naked and high on sex, okay? You might change your mind.”

“Do... do you want me to?”

“No.” Nicky whispered. “I don't, but...” He ran a hand down Mark's thigh, stroking gently. “Sex is easy, okay? Love is harder. Say it again tomorrow.” He tilted his head, his hand stroking down the back of Mark's thigh now, tugging him in a little. “If you still mean it tomorrow, then I'll say it back.”

“Okay.” Mark bit his lip, trying not to start giggling hysterically through sheer confused joy. Nicky pressed against him again. “Now.” He urged. “Come on.”

“Yeah.” Nicky nodded, tilting his hips. Mark watched his face, watched his cheeks flush, his eyes fall closed. It was something to focus on, while he felt himself open up.

“Ah...!” He tilted his head back, closing his eyes. It didn't hurt. It didn't, but fuck that was intense. Like being split apart, being penetrated, his body making a space for Nicky like his heart had already done weeks ago. Fingers clenched hard on his thigh and he heard a whining moan, felt Nicky shift in a little more, feeding into him slowly.

“Deep breath.” Nicky urged. Mark did, clawing it down his throat, felt Nicky slip in more as he relaxed. Breathing through it and trying to focus on something other than Nicky's cock sliding into him, becoming him.

Nicky was making soothing sounds, stroking his thighs, over his belly, up his chest. Mark tried to focus, but it was all too much. He gasped out a cry, felt Nicky still.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” He was breathing too fast, still felt like there wasn't enough air.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.” It didn't. Not really. It was just... “Feels... god, Nicky...” He arched, felt it shift inside him. “Keep going, I'm...” He dragged in another breath. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

“You do.” Nicky closed his eyes, bit his lip for a second. Then he opened them, his tongue darting out to wet lips that were already moist. “I'm only halfway in and you feel...” He looked down, eyes all fire. “Fuck, that's nice.”

“More.” Mark urged. “Need you.”

“Yeah.” Nicky agreed, already tilting his hips. Mark felt the movement rock up into his core, his head going back again. Nicky cupped his chin, though, tilting him forward so their eyes could meet, his hips still moving impossibly forward.

“There.” He said finally. “That's it.” His thumb swiped over Mark's bottom lip. “How you feeling?”  
  
“Full.” He curled his toes, trying to focus. “Really good.”

“Yeah.” Nicky leaned forward, tilting Mark's hips a little to adjust the angle. Their lips met a moment later, his legs wrapping around Nicky's waist to keep contact. It felt deep, felt big and good, like he fitted. Mark was sure he'd be walking uncomfortably tomorrow, but it didn't matter, not with Nicky rocking slowly, lighting him up. A hand slid between them, starting a slow, even stroke.

“You...” Nicky murmured against his mouth. “...are so fucking lovely.”

“Nicky...” Mark gasped, feeling Nicky nudge him right... “I'm gonna...”

“It's okay.” His mouth was caught, a tongue plunging deep, then pulling away, Nicky's forehead leaning against his, eyes right there. “Me too. You feel so _good_.” He growled, tugging Mark's hips in harder, like a punctuation mark. “So tight, baby, I...” He gasped, changing the angle slightly. Oh and that was...

Nicky braced himself on one elbow, the other holding his hip still while he thrust. Harder, making him yelp, claw at Nicky's shoulders and try to hang on for the ride. Kisses claimed his mouth, over and over, until they were just sharing hot, wet air, tongues fighting, teeth clashing. He heard Nicky moan, felt the hand near his head fist in the sheets, then in his hair.

“Mark...” He opened his eyes, locking them with blown pupils. Grabbed Nicky's arse and yanked him deeper, felt it start, felt it tingle in his toes, pinch in his belly. Felt Nicky slide against him through sweat, hair crushing to his chest, fingernails on his hip, a hand on his nape. Blood rushing in his ears, and Nicky crying out, his mouth devouring him for the last few moments. “Mark...” He gasped again.

“Nicky...” Mark whispered, pulling him close.


	12. Chapter 12

Well-fucked was an understatement.

Mark lay on his back, trying to figure out if he could move. He was fairly certain he couldn't. Not after the last time. And the time before that. It was five in the morning and he hadn't even thought of sleeping. Couldn't. He had, for about half an hour after the first time, but then he'd woken up not long after, found Nicky on the windowsill having his nightly cigarette and just had to tug him back inside and go again. Nicky had laughed, pulled him down on top, and opened up so beautifully that Mark had barely been able to stop himself coming, enclosed in that tight heat, listening to Nicky cry out and claw at his back.

Then again, when they'd gone down to get food and Nicky had pushed him forward against the kitchen counter, bent down, and spread him open, fucking him with his tongue, the sensation amazing against abused muscles. Mark hadn't expected it at all, but god, he couldn't wait until he had his energy back so he could return the favour, hold Nicky's arse open and dive inside.

Nicky didn't have much energy either, from the look of things. Was laying on his back, gasping shallow, wheezing breaths.

“Fuck.” He gasped, throwing out a hand to land on Mark's chest. “I can't move.”

“I think I'm dead.” Mark announced. Heard a soft, high giggle from the man next to him. “Let's do it again.”

“God, no.” Nicky managed. “I mean, yes. Soon. But right now...” He blew out a slow breath. “Wow. I'd forgotten how much fucking energy teenagers have.”

“You're a teenager.”

“I'm a responsible adult.” Nicky laughed, glancing over. “You are amazingly sexy.”

“Dunno about that.” Mark felt himself blush. Wasn't sure how his blood was reaching his face when it seemed to have all been redirected to his cock for the last five hours.

“I do. Fucking hell.” Nicky giggled again, propping himself up on his elbows and looking at him. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” Mark grinned. “Best birthday ever.”

“Tell me about it.” Nicky reached over, running his fingers through the mess on Mark's belly. That had been from the last time, when they'd started kissing a bit, then started making out a bit, and then it had just been all _grind_. The sun was starting to come up, now. He'd have to be home soon. “Want a bath? I want a bath.”  
  
“Want to have sex in the bath?”

“Yep.” Nicky smirked. “But not right now.”

“Later?”

“Definitely.” He flopped back down. Mark reached over, groping until he found Nicky's belly and rested his hand there. It was taken a moment later. “I need to sleep.”

“Are you going to?”

“Not if you have anything to say about it.” Nicky grinned. They looked at each a long moment, Mark's smile reflected on Nicky's face. “You.” He squeezed Mark's hand.

“You.” Mark echoed, squeezing back.

 

*

 

It was like having springs in the soles of his shoes. He felt like he was about to start skipping at any moment, which would have looked really weird when he was sitting at the kitchen table next to his mother, eating pancakes and trying not to climb into Nicky's lap. His father wasn't home, had had to pop out on an errand or something, but apparently they were doing presents when he got back. He kept looking over, catching eyes on him, and smiling stupidly. Nicky kept touching his thigh under the table.

“Good night?” She didn't look like she really wanted to ask the question.

“Yeah, Nicky ordered some Chinese food and we watched a couple of movies.” Which was technically true. They'd had to fill in the five hours until midnight somehow.

“Anything good?”

Fuck, Mark couldn't even remember. He'd been too busy trying to use his tongue as a ladder into Nicky's throat.

“Star Wars was on the telly.” Nicky supplied. “Always a classic.” Of course. Nicky had been kissing down his neck when Obi Wan had collapsed into a puddle of nothing. He could remember laughing at a comment about C-3PO and R2D2 being a really cute gay couple, and then...

Well, there had been other priorities.

He felt stiff now, a bit awkward when he tried to walk or sit. Okay, though. Really okay. Every time Nicky smiled at him he felt like he was going to melt into his chair. Nicky seemed fine, though, but Mark figured he'd probably done this a thousand times. Fingers brushed his thigh again.

“More pancakes?”

“Yes, please.” He didn't even look away, his eyes caught in a sweet, fond gaze that tickled up his spine. “Thanks mam.” They landed in front of him a minute later. He heard her laugh, looked over to see her glancing out the window.

“Your father's back.” She announced. “Think he's got presents.”

“Ooh...” Nicky laughed, winking at him. There was a knock on the door a minute later. His father came in, hugged him and wished him a happy birthday. Mark thanked him, looking at Nicky over his dad's shoulder. Then they went outside.

 

*

 

“Dad...” Mark covered his mouth, trying not to cry. “You didn't have to...”

“Lad's off to school.” A hand clapped him on the back. “Have to make sure he can get home on the weekends.” Mark reached out, carefully touching the hood. A fucking car. A second hand one, obviously, but still in really good condition. A red Toyota, had to be only three years old, with brand new tyres. The keys were pressed into his hand a minute later. He opened the door, sliding in. It was brilliant, freshly cleaned and with a tape deck and CD player set into the radio. He ran his hand over the dash, not able to believe it.

“It's too much.”

“It isn't.” His father leaned down, looking through the window. “You worked really hard this year. We're proud of you.”

“Dad... Mam...” He swallowed back tears. “Thanks. I don't even know what to say.”

“Say you'll come home at least one weekend a month.” She suggested. “And on holidays.”

“Of course. Holy shit.” He rested his hands on the wheel, gripping it gently. “Can we have my birthday in here? I'm never getting out.”

“You'll never fit all your friends in there.” His dad laughed. “But you can take us for a drive if you like.”

“Okay. Yeah.” The other doors began to open. Nicky slid in beside him, grinning excitedly. “Where are we going?”

 

*

 

The rest of the day was nice. They drove around for a while, went into town. Nicky bought him a few CDs at the Record Room, then they went back home and Mark crashed until the afternoon, the exhaustion from the night before catching up on him. By the time his brothers came home from school he was feeling awake enough to play a game of football in the backyard, and by the time Nicky came over and joined in it was starting to get dark.

Nicky left, said he had some stuff to go sort out and would be back for the party. Kian rolled up around seven, took one look at the car and swore really loudly, demanding to be taken for a ride. Mark shook his head, laughing, and they went out back to set up, finding a place far enough from the house to not annoy his parents or the neighbours. His parents helped him carry some tables, and then Shane and Gillian showed up too, helping to hang decorations and run an extension cord from the house for the stereo.

The first people started showing up around eight. Just people from school. Kian had done a good enough job, only inviting people who weren't complete arseholes, and after a bit Mark found himself laughing, sitting in a circle with a bunch of people he'd barely spoken to in the last five years and discovering that he did, in fact, have a lot in common with them after all. It was weird. Now that school was basically over, he found he didn't really care any more what they thought of him, what he thought of them. They travelled in different circles, but those circles were starting to fray at the edges now that everyone was realising they had other options.

Then, around nine, Nicky made his entrance.

It was about as extravagant as he'd said. The motorcycle pulled up. Mark was surprised to see a small trailer being dragged behind it, something bungee corded to the back and covered in a tarpaulin. People sort of looked over, interested in the noise, the sleek black and silver bike. Nicky pulled off his helmet, beginning to wander over.

“Hey.” Mark grinned, ambling over to close the distance. “I missed you.”

“Good.” The grin he got back was cheeky. “How's your party?”

“Better now.” He reached out a hand. Nicky took it. “I'm going to kiss you in a second.”

“Big statement?” Nicky laughed. “I can do that. What are we talking? Soft and tender? Massive snog? I can put a hand on your arse if you like.”

“How about classy and a bit sexy?”

“That's me to a tee.” Nicky winked. Mark giggled. He could feel eyes on them, realised he was still holding Nicky's hand. “You want to go in first or will I?”

“Same time?” Mark suggested. “I'm gonna put my hand on the back of your neck.”

“I'm still going to grab your arse.”

“Brilliant.”

There was a rippling murmur when their lips touched. Mark laughed into the kiss, felt Nicky echo it. True to his word, he felt a hand skate down his back, squeeze his arse for a second while he cupped the back of Nicky's head, stroked a thumb behind his ear, heard a soft, pleased sigh.

“Mmm...” Nicky rubbed their noses together once their lips parted. “Bit nice.”

“A bit.” Mark agreed. “Is everyone looking?”

“They really are.” Nicky chuckled, leaning in to hug him. “One lad just dropped his plate.” He pulled back. “Come introduce me to people. I feel a tart now.”

Mark nodded, leading him over and not letting go of his hand.

 

*

 

It went okay, all things considered. Nobody left, at least, or Mark didn't notice. He was a bit too wrapped up in the thousand questions that Kian had decided he needed to ask, mostly about why he hadn't just fucking _said_ something. Mark laughed, shaking his head, and gripped Nicky's hand a little tighter.

Everyone was also distracted by Nicky's birthday present, which he'd unstrapped from the trailer and dragged up the hill on a little trolley. A karaoke machine. Rented, of course, but still a fun treat. Nicky promised he'd gotten the one with the most Mariah Carey he could find, and it was getting plenty of use. Three girls were up now on a low stage they'd managed to cobble together from a few pallets, butchering a Spice Girls song.

“What I want to know...” Kian was saying, around a mouthful of sausage. Mark had hoped food would shut him up, but it hadn't helped. His dad was over doing the barbecue, arguing idly with Nicky over whether the grill was hot enough. “Is how you're _sure_. I mean, you've never shagged a girl, right?”

“How do you know you're straight if you've never shagged a guy?” Mark shrugged.

“That's different, though.”

“How?”

“It's like...” He took another bite of his sausage, and then just kept talking while he chewed. “Default setting, isn't it. Like, you're gay because you're not straight. It's not that you're straight because you're not gay.”

“I really don't think it works like that.” Mark laughed. “You should talk to Nicky. He's bi. He could probably write a list of pros and cons for you, if you like.”  
  
“But doesn't he miss like... you know, girls and stuff?”

“I'll ask. Nicky!” His boyfriend looked over, distracted from the grill. “Kian wants to know if you miss girls!” He was a bit pleased to see Kian turn a bit red and start to look flustered when people began to look over.

“Not recently!” Nicky called back. His father laughed. “Do you?”

“I miss you! Why are you over there?”

“Because I'm being polite!” Nicky shouted. People were starting to watch now. Mark didn't know what had gotten into him. He usually never raised his voice at all, especially not in public, was usually shy and stammering. Something about Nicky, though, made him not care. Nobody else even mattered. “Stop shouting, it's rude!” He turned back, said something to Mark's dad, and then began to wander over, pecking Mark's cheek as soon as he arrived. “That's better. What are we talking about?”

“Kian has questions. Sex questions.”

“Does he?” Nicky raised an eyebrow, and Mark remembered for a moment all of the rather graphic explanations he'd heard over the last couple of months. This was going to be fun. “Hit me.”

“I'm... I'll be okay.” Kian managed. “Cheers.”

“I came all the way over here for that?” Nicky teased. “Come on, ask me something really offensive.”

“Um...” Kian was going redder. “So... um... what's...” He looked horribly pained. “What's the weirdest place you've ever done it?”

“Isolation tank at a day spa.” Nicky replied promptly. “Couldn't really move and it was dark.”

“With a guy or a girl?” Mark asked. Nicky winked.

“Both. It was really cramped. I worked there doing laundry, picking up towels and stuff, he was the receptionist and she heard us from the tank next door and joined in.” Nicky laughed. “I was... sixteen?”

“You worked at a day spa?”

“For about two weeks after school. We both got fired about ten minutes later.” Nicky looked at Kian. “This is quite fun. Mark isn't shocked any more. Ask another one.”

“Um...” Kian took a deep breath. “So...”

Mark left them to it. He was surprised Kian wasn't taking notes. His face was all squinty as he tried to absorb everything Nicky was saying. When he looked over a few minutes later from the snack table, Nicky was doing really specific hand movements, two fingers up and moving in and out of the circle of his other fist, then pointing and making circles. Kian was nodding, pointing and then tapping his own chin, looking thoughtful. Mark shook his head, reaching for another handful of Maltesers.

By the time he got back, Kian was over trying it on with a girl in the corner, looking earnestly like he wanted a practice run at whatever Nicky had been telling him.

His parents went to bed late, after the cake, and by the time midnight rolled around, someone had produced a cooler of beer and a few bottles of vodka. Nicky grabbed a few things and pressed a cup into Mark's hand a few minutes later.

“There you go.”

“What's this?”

“You'll like it.” Nicky promised. Mark took a sip. He did. “But of course there's no alcohol in it because you're a minor and that would be wrong.”

“It would.” He took another sip. “Are you going to sing something?”  
  
“After I have a few more of these non-alcoholic drinks that don't have alcohol in them.”

“Of course.” Mark laughed. “Sing something with me.”

“That sounds delightfully cheesy.” Nicky leaned over, kissing his cheek. “But I get to pick the song.”

“...okay.” Mark said hesitantly. “What are you going to pick?”

“Dunno yet.” The book of song choices was doing the rounds and Nicky went over and snagged it gracefully, disarming the group of girls poring over it with a cheeky pout and removing it before they'd even noticed. He came back over, flicking through. “Hmmm...” He sank back down next to Mark, still flicking. Mark tried to lean over for a look, but it was pulled away. “Oh!” Nicky said suddenly. “Yep.” He looked up at Mark. “Remember how you said you wanted to be a boyband?”

“I said Shane and Kian wanted to be a boyband...” Mark hedged. “What have you picked?” A hand was already in his, tugging him up. Nicky went to fiddle with the machine, and Mark rolled his eyes as a familiar song started up. He heard Nicky laugh. “Really?”

“Really.” Nicky gave him a microphone, then a kiss. “I'll start, if you're feeling shy.” Mark gestured, stepping back slightly to give him space.

Nicky had a nice voice. Mark sort of knew already, from listening to him sing along to the radio, but it was good by itself, hoarse and even.

“ _I'd walk halfway round the world for just one kiss from you...  
_ _Far beyond the call of love, the sun, the stars, the moon...”_

Mark laughed, lifting his microphone as they hit the chorus. Of course it was bloody Backstreet Boys. By the time they reached the last chorus, Nicky's hand was in his and he'd stopped bothering to be embarrassed. A couple of people clapped. The rest weren't really paying attention, were too busy being tipsy and having a good time.

_Baby I'd go anywhere for you...”_

“Eejit.” Mark leaned in as the music died away. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Nicky said promptly, squeezing his hand. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Mark agreed, kissing his cheek.

 

*

 

“So tell me who's gay.” They were snuggled up in the corner. The party was dying down now, everyone scattered around the place in groups. They'd had a couple more gos on the karaoke machine. Mark had done a Prince number, Nicky had done a really terrible version of Push It, almost falling over laughing at himself while he tried to rap and girls cheered drunkenly. He had a few admirers, it seemed. Shane was up there now, vaguely crooning his way through I Just Can't Stop Loving You, giving the eyes to Gillian, who was swooning in front of the stage by herself.

Nicky laughed, squeezing his waist. “Okay...” He looked around. “That lad over there.”

“He's on the rugby team!” Mark argued. “He's been dating the same girl for four years.”

“Which one?” Mark pointed. “Oh, she's a beard. Lesbian, too, I reckon.” Mark laughed, shaking his head. “Also that one there...” He pointed at a girl from Shane's year Mark didn't really know. “And...” He looked around. “There was a very nice boy about twenty minutes ago who was checking me out, but I don't know where he's gone to.”

“Who?” Mark grabbed him round the waist. “He can't have you.”

“Ooh, getting possessive?” Nicky nuzzled into his cheek. “I do like it when you get possessive.”

“I've never done it before.”

“I like it, though.” A kiss brushed his cheek. “Come back to mine after the party. I want to sit on your cock.” Mark swallowed, feeling the idea affect him badly. He glanced around. There was only about ten people still here, most of them starting to look sleepy, and apart from Shane, no-one he was particularly close to. Kian had left with a girl about twenty minutes before. He stood up.

“Right. Party's over.” He glanced down at Nicky, who had two fingers sucked into his mouth, and shuddered. “Everybody out.”


	13. Chapter 13

Exams started. Mark tried to spend as much time with Nicky as he could, but he was studying half the time, exhausted for the rest of it. The two weeks dragged on and on, a slow, torturous blur of filling in multiple choice questions, scribbling essays in the allotted time, and staring at maths problems and wondering why he kept getting different answers.

And in between, having people coming up and asking questions, whispering in the halls. Some arsehole threw a half-empty bottle of coke at him, yelled out a name, but Kian took the brunt of the impact by accident and then went and shouted at the culprit until he backed away, looking seriously confused.

By the time he drove home on the last afternoon he was just about dead on his feet. He went upstairs and fell into bed before it was even dark, just glad it was over, dreading the results.

 

*

 

“Would you just...”

“I am. Move your leg...” Nicky shifted between his legs, water splashing around them.

The bath had been a bad idea. It had seemed romantic at the time, but it really wasn't. It was just both of them squashed in a porcelain cage, trying not to sit on anything important. Mark had already been kicked in the shin twice, and Nicky's elbows were going everywhere.

“This was a bad idea.” Mark conceded.

“No it wasn't. Just move your arm over...” Nicky wriggled again. “Right. Don't move.”

“Okay.” He tried to hold still, wrapping his arms around Nicky's waist and tugging him back. “I'm so glad exams are over.”

“Me too.” Nicky sighed. “Honestly, they were more exhausting for me, having to listen to you complain all the time.” He yelped when he was poked in the back, then started laughing. “I did miss you, though."

“I'm back now.” Mark kissed up the back of his neck. “Now it's just the waiting game. Only three more weeks.”

“I'm not good at waiting.”

“You're not.” Nicky was impatient. Mark had known that before he'd come over that afternoon and Nicky's legs had been round his waist before the door was even shut behind him. They'd ended up fucking on the couch, Mark's leg over Nicky's shoulder, trying to sit up enough to reach his lips but failing miserably until Nicky had bent down, opening him up and plunging deep, kissing him hard through both their orgasms.

So a bath had been necessity.

He closed his hands on Nicky's waist, rocking into him slightly, just teasing, felt Nicky wriggle back.

“I really like having sex with you.”

“Good.” Nicky smirked. “It's fairly nice for me, too.”

“Yeah.” Mark swallowed, resting his forehead on Nicky's shoulder. “What's the best sex you've ever had?”

“That's a really big question.” Nicky sighed. “I've been with people who have been better than others. Been with some people who were hopeless but... I don't know. I can have sex with anyone, in the end. The ones I've enjoyed the most were the ones that I respected, that respected me back. Without that it's just fucking.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Or are you asking me where you fit on the scale?”

Mark shrugged, feeling self-conscious now. He had no experience outside of Nicky, he knew that, probably wasn't all that interesting or adventurous so far.

“You don't have to answer that.”

“I'm going to.” Nicky's fingers threaded through his. “I'm with you. I'm choosing to have sex with you, and I love you, so... at this point in my life? You're the best thing in it, so having sex is a just a bonus. A really big, fucking amazing bonus.”

“That's diplomatic.” Mark teased, feeling awkward.

“It's not.” Nicky shook his head, hands squeezing. “It's not about how tight you are, or how big you are or... if you can swallow my cock in one go or do a trick with your tongue. I couldn't give a shit about any of that. You're not a hole for me to fuck, you're the person who makes me happy, and having sex with you makes me happy. It's not something we're doing to each other, it's something we're doing together, and we make a pretty fantastic team.”

“We do.” Mark agreed. “I'm going to miss you so much when I'm at school.”

“You'll visit.”

“It's not the same.”

“We'll make it work.” Nicky promised. “Now let's get out of this tub. My leg's cramping.”

 

*

 

He was starting to doze when the lights went on over at Nicky's house.

He'd been waiting up, watching for it. Usually he went to bed a little bit earlier on nights Nicky was working, especially now that he wasn't studying all hours of the night, but he'd missed him especially much this evening and wanted to see him, even if it was just for a minute. His grandparents had been around for dinner, so there was no sneaking over in the afternoon, and by the time they'd gone home it was already too late. He'd heard the bike roar off at about eight o'clock, halfway into dessert.

He leaned his chin on the windowsill, waiting. Nicky was doing an earlier shift the last few weeks to cover off for another lad who was on holidays, and it was only two in the morning. Still late, but compared to his usual six o'clock finishes it wasn't too bad. Nicky moved past the window, and a few seconds later Mark saw a dress come over his head.

They hadn't really discussed this, not since that weird weekend last month, but he supposed it made sense. Nicky thought he was asleep, was on his own and wanted to have a bit of fun with himself. Mark watched, saw him rake a hand through his hair, adjusting everything. He looked curvier, somehow, more filled out in the right spots. Mark bit his lip, trying to decide what to do.

Fuck it.

He switched on his light, saw Nicky look over. A head poked through the curtains. It still looked like Nicky. Mark waved. Nicky waved back.

Mark pointed at himself, pointed at Nicky's house, asking permission. Nicky nodded.

He had his slippers on and was halfway across the road in less than five minutes. Nicky answered the door, back in pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Mark tilted his head. “Whatcha doing?”

“Nothing, now.” Nicky smirked, stepping back to let him in. “Just got in, was going to have a wank.”

“Want some help?”

“Ooh, yes please.” He was tugged down into a kiss. “You should be asleep.”

“Saw your light on.” He hesitated. “Saw you putting on a dress.” Nicky raised an eyebrow. “How's um... that going?”

“Very well.” Nicky crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall in the hallway. He studied Mark for a long moment, eyes teasing him apart. “Is that why you came over?”

“Maybe.” Mark admitted. “Was erm... interested.”

“Curious, you mean.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. “You want to come upstairs? I was about to do my make-up.”

“Uh... yeah, okay.” Mark shrugged, following Nicky through. The bedroom was basically the same as he'd seen it last time, the duvet all messed up and a pillow on the floor. Except last time there hadn't been a rather fetching purple minidress on the floor. Or a bra hanging off the chest of drawers. He stared at it for a second. It was black and lacy and seemed entirely out of place. He looked at Nicky, trying to marry the two up in his head. “So...”

“Come here.” Nicky urged, tugging him into a hug. “You look panicked.”

“No. Um.” He squeezed, felt the familiar shape of Nicky in his arms. A kiss dotted his cheek. “I'm fine. I just don't know what I expected. Erm...” He glanced down. “Purple?”

“I like purple.” Nicky laughed. “You don't like purple?”

“I do. I just...” He pulled back, capturing Nicky's mouth, trying to at least not seem judgmental. Which he wasn't, it was just... “I don't know how to wrap my head around it.”

“It's fine.” Nicky laughed, pecking his lips again. “You want a fashion parade or something? I have outfits. I mean, it was a shit trying to find a padded bra in Sligo, but I managed.” He tugged his shirt off, then reached over, snagging the bra Mark had seen on the chest of drawers. “Number one drag queen's best friend.” He held it up, then turned around, hooking the straps over his arms. “Do me up?” Mark did, fumbling with the hooks. When Nicky turned back around it was really really strange.

“Is there a bottom half?”

“Already on.” Nicky held out the waist of his pyjama bottoms and Mark saw a glimpse of more black lace. He reached down, grabbing the dress, then started to pull it over his head. It barely came down to mid-thigh once it was straightened, the neckline plunging just enough to be suggestive but not enough to let on that there wasn't anything to suggest, with wide straps that covered Nicky's shoulders a bit. He dropped the pyjama pants and kicked them off. “There we go. Part one's done.”

“Right.” He let his fingers touch the sheer fabric. It was odd. If he didn't look at Nicky's face the rest seemed okay, sort of curvy, and he was small and skinny already so didn't look too muscular or square on a normal day. “Were you good? At... you know, shows and stuff?”

“Yeah.” Nicky shrugged. “It was a fun thing I did for a bit.” He studied Mark's face. “I can take it off, babe. We don't have to.”

“No.” Mark swallowed. “I...” He looked up. “So, part two then?”

“Part two.” Nicky agreed, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “I've already had a shave, so that's out of the way.” He brought Mark's hand up, pressed it to a smooth cheek. “You know, you'd actually look really hot with some eyeliner? Make those big blue eyes pop.” He ran a hand down Mark's jaw.

“No thanks.” Mark laughed. “I don't think I'd look good in a dress.”

“Oh, you'd look awful, but I reckon a splash of eyeliner and away we go.” He pulled away, grabbed a box off the bed, and flipped it open to reveal a make-up kit. “What do I feel like, here? I could do a really fancy cats eye, or...” He glanced at Mark. “Hmmm... nothing too trashy, I don't think. I used to do a quality Marilyn Monroe at this club on Grafton Street, and then this slag came along doing an amazing Rita Hayworth, and scooped the gig out from under me.”

“Bitch.”

“I know, right?” Nicky laughed. Mark found himself laughing along. Despite everything, it was still just Nicky, acting like an eejit while he picked up a make-up brush and began to work it into a compact. “It's too bad everyone knows you're gay now. I could have pretended to be your girlfriend at the dance this weekend.”

“It's not enough to come as my boyfriend?”

“It's more than enough. Thanks for inviting me.” His skin was starting to look different now, sort of smoother and creamier. “Pass me that concealer? I've got a bitch of a pimple coming up on my chin.” Mark stared into the box for a second, then made an educated guess. The right one, it seemed. Nicky took it, applied it, then handed it back. “My skin's actually been a lot better since I came here. I used to get little breakouts all the time. Maybe it's the cleaner air or something, or maybe I'm just less stressed.”

“Maybe.” Mark agreed. For not the first time he had to remind himself that Nicky wasn't even nineteen yet. It seemed he'd crammed so much into his life Mark didn't even know how he'd had the time. “Did you go to your school dances?”

“It was about the only time I went to school.” Nicky laughed, turning back. He looked more or less the same so far, but his skin was more even, a little paler maybe. “I'd go with some friends, sneak in a hip flask and we'd get trashed in the toilets.”

“You had many friends in Dublin?”

“Not really.” Nicky rummaged through the box, then grabbed a few things, turning back to the mirror. “Not in the last couple of years, anyway. I had a boyfriend that...” He paused. “Well, he wasn't a very nice guy, put it that way.” He was applying eyeliner now, smoothing the edges out with his little finger. “He didn't really like me... well, leaving the house, talking to people, having a life...” He put the pencil down, started dabbing a brush into a small tray of eyeshadows.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, well.” Nicky shrugged. “Let's not talk about that. He was a fucking arsehole, and he's out of my life. For good, hopefully.” He glanced over at Mark. It was sort of uncanny, the eyeliner darkening his gaze somehow. Mark had almost forgotten he was wearing a dress, been caught up in conversation. Nicky did that to him, though. “If you ever see a guy and he starts telling you what to do... what to wear and who you're allowed to see... Drop that fucker as soon as you possibly can, no matter if he says he love you. Especially if he says he loves you.”

“Who else am I going to be seeing?”

“That's very sweet, but I'm not that naïve.” Nicky was sweeping dark grey shadow over his eyes, curling up slightly in the corners. “Maybe we'll be turning ninety together, or maybe you'll meet someone else in college and...” He shrugged. “Shit happens.”

“You think I'll cheat on you at college?”

“No, I don't think you can make plans, though. Maybe you'll be sitting in class and this absolutely perfect guy will come in and honestly, I wouldn't stop you. Because if that turns out to be The One, then who the fuck am I to stand in your way?”

“You'd want me to leave you?”

“I don't want you to leave me. But I'm not going to be the kind of arsehole to make you stay either.” One eye was done. He started on the other. The difference was odd. One side still looked like Nicky. The other... “I want you to be happy, because you are just about the best thing I've ever had, and I want you to have everything. Mascara...” He held out a hand. Mark handed it to him. “Cheers.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Nicky smiled, leaning closer to brush it on. “You're an odd, sweet kid and I can't wait to see what kind of adult you turn into.”

“I'm odd?”

“You're sitting in my bedroom at three in the morning while I put on mascara.” Nicky laughed, then put the brush down. “There should be a tube of lipstick there with a pink and blue case. Could you...?” It was pressed into his hand a second later. “Brilliant. Nearly done. Got a question for you.”

“Okay.”

Nicky popped the top off the tube, pursed his lips in the mirror.

“Blonde, brunette or redhead?”

 

*

 

“Fuck...” Nicky gasped. His elbows were braced on the top of the drawers, propping him up while Mark grabbed under his thighs, hoisting him and driving into him over and over again. “Fuck... oh...” He cried out, head tipping back. Mark sucked at his throat, feeling the elastic of the lacy knickers drag at the side of his cock where he'd shoved them aside and pushed in hard. “Mark...!”

“So fucking sexy.” Mark growled, pulling back to look. The blonde wig was quite good, almost the colour of Nicky's usual hair, but it was the face, the one that didn't look at all like Nicky but was so utterly _him_ somehow, parted red lips, hair flopping over eyes that seemed even darker under smoky grey shadow, his eyelashes impossibly long and black. He didn't know what he'd expected, had thought it would be garish or flamboyant, but it wasn't. It was almost subtle, like if he saw it from a distance he wouldn't look twice.

Up close, though...

“Gonna come, babe...” Nicky whimpered. “God, you're...” His head went back again, elbows shifting to keep his balance. “Fuck me. Fuck me like that, I'm...” He cried out Mark's name, legs clamping on his waist. Mark adjusted his hands, one on Nicky's arse to hold him, the other pushing under the rucked-up material of the dress. He hoisted him a little higher, burying his face in a padded chest. Nicky groaned, grinding against his hand.

The lipstick tasted waxy when he lifted his head again, catching Nicky's mouth. It was half-smeared across his face. He felt Nicky twitch in his grip, felt himself get close. Scraped his teeth down a long throat, felt a chest hitch against his.

“Oh. Baby.” Nicky gasped out a sudden low whine. “Harder. Fuck me while I come, I'm so... right there, I...” He grabbed the back of Mark's head, yanking him into a hard kiss, spilling over Mark's hand with a muffled shout, lips wet against his. Mark fell a second later, pushing in and feeling the grasping walls suck it out of him, dragging him in deeper while Nicky quivered on one elbow, the other still in his hair.

He let Nicky down carefully, watching his feet stumble slightly in the heels he'd put on about five seconds before he'd started this. He'd been cheekily offered a lapdance, and that had been about it.

He didn't know what it was. Didn't think he'd be interested if it was anybody else. Maybe it was just that he felt like he was seeing the last side of Nicky, pulling the whole picture of who he was together in his head. Or maybe it was the fact that Nicky's arse looked fucking fantastic in a pair of girl's underpants.

That probably didn't hurt, really.

He felt the condom get rolled off, watched Nicky knot it and toss it in on top of the dresser, next to the make-up kit. He looked ruined, his make-up all smeared, wig slightly askew. Mark tugged it off, running his fingers through familiar chin-length hair.

“I'm going to fall over in a second.” Nicky laughed. “That was unexpected.”

“I know.” He took a couple of steps back, collapsed back onto the bed. Nicky fell on top of him a moment later.

He realised, suddenly, that he was still wearing his slippers.

 


	14. Chapter 14

His mother kept taking photos. It was weird. Mark didn't know how many pictures they needed of two black suits, but apparently it needed to be carefully documented. They took about a thousand. He had to take one with his parents, one with his brothers, about a thousand with Nicky, then they all had to have about ten attempts of taking one with all of them while the timer counted down on the camera and someone invariably blinked at the wrong moment.

By the time they were out the door and into Mark's car he was half blind with camera flashes. They'd discussed going in on the bike, but Nicky argued that the helmets would mess up their hair, and Nicky had spent ages on it before doing Mark's, gelling it up into a short quiff that actually looked sort of cool, though he'd managed to avoid the eyeliner Nicky was still insisting on. Nicky still had to work that night but Mark was going to drop him off after the dance, pick him up in the morning and go get breakfast.

They made it to the dance. Word had got around enough that nobody really seemed that surprised, though they definitely got a few looks from the faculty and some of the parents chaperoning. Kian came past with his date, giving Nicky a thumbs up and pointing at her when she wasn't looking. Nicky laughed, blowing a kiss back.

“What the hell did you teach him?” Mark asked, once he had a glass of punch in his hand and they'd found a table to sit at. Nicky smirked.

“Just something you'll never need to learn.” He took a sip of his drink. They'd dragged two chairs together, and Nicky's hand was on his thigh, head on his shoulder. “It's amazing how many guys have no idea. You can't just stick your tongue in and slap it about.”

“Casanova.” Mark laughed. “Where'd you learn to do it, then?”

“A very, very instructive lesbian named Colleen. I crashed on her couch for two nights when I was hiding from my dad and got a few pointers. Her girlfriend was an amazing cook. I was almost sad to leave. She made a banoffee pie that...” He drifted off for a second, his eyes dreamy. “Nice girl, anyway. She could curl her tongue.”

“Why do you know that?”

“Why do I know anything?” Nicky laughed, turning to kiss his cheek. “Let's go for a dance. I'll let you dip me.”

“I don't dance.”

“You do now.” Nicky stood, tugging him up. “I didn't get to go to my end of school dance, so I want a romantic dance with a fella. Come on.”

 

*

 

“Perfect.” Nicky sighed, swaying slightly in his arms. “You are so perfect.”

“Do you have to go to work tonight?” Mark murmured. “Let's go back to yours.”

“I do.” There was a soft laugh against his ear. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.” Mark sighed. “I was going to stick my tongue in your arse, but apparently...”

“Don't tempt me.” Nicky groaned, hands tightening slightly on his back. “You've just taken to this sex thing like a duck to water, haven't you?”

“Good teacher.” A nose nuzzled into his cheek. “Want to practice all the time.”

“Mmm...” Nicky leaned into him a little more. “You look thoroughly delicious in a suit. I want to rip it off and go down on you.”

“So do it.” Mark goaded. “Toilets are down the hall.”

“Everybody's already looking at us like we're about to start fucking right here.” Nicky smirked, pulling back a bit. “When you come get me in the morning we'll go straight home and you can eat breakfast off my arse.”

“What are we having? Not toast. That sounds scratchy.”

“It does.” Nicky laughed. “I love you. I really love you. I...” He shook his head, leaning in. “I'm going to miss you so much.” He murmured. Mark kissed his neck feeling tears spring to his eyes. Nicky hadn't said that before, not really, had been the one to comfort him when he'd talked about missing Nicky. “I don't want to be without you for a second.”

“Come with me.” Mark argued. “Wherever I go, you should come.”

“No.” Nicky shook his head. “You'll get accepted everywhere, probably end up in Dublin and I can't... I can't go back there. No.”

“I'll go somewhere else.”

“You'll go wherever is best for you.” Fingers ran through his hair. “Even if it's London, or Paris, or bloody Timbuktu.”

“I didn't apply there.”

“No, but I mean in general.” Nicky sighed. “You've got big things in you. Don't let me stand in the way.”

“Stop it.” He murmured. “I'm wherever you are.”

“You are. You always will be, but...” A hand pressed to his heart. “This won't fade because we're not together, okay? It won't. I won't let it.” He looked up. “Go be what you're supposed to be, and I'll be here waiting to see what that is. And it'll probably be perfect.” He kissed Mark's nose. “Just be you, and you'll always have me.”

“Okay.” Mark caught his mouth. “You know you're a big romantic idiot, right?”

“You've found me out.” Nicky laughed. He pulled away, twirled, and fell back in. “You bring out the worst in me.”

“I'm glad.” He pulled Nicky in close, glancing at his watch, wishing this didn't have to be over so soon.

 

*

 

He hadn't been in the bar since that awful night when he'd thought Red Bull and vodka was a good idea. He hadn't had anywhere to be, though, and as long as he didn't try to order alcohol Nicky said it was okay for him to sit at the bar for a bit and hang out. He felt a bit awkward still wearing his suit, but it was so crowded no-one seemed to notice. People probably thought he was a bouncer or something, like the two big lads patrolling the doors. They didn't have a rose in their buttonhole, though.

Nicky had changed into a plain black polo shirt and black trousers, was mixing drinks and taking orders faster than he could breathe. The other bartender was running a bit late. Mark watched, slightly fascinated with the way his hands moved effortlessly, scooping things up, shaking things, sectioning pieces of fruit for fancy cocktails. Another one of Nicky's many hidden talents, apparently. Somewhere in the flood of customers, he ended up with a mocktail sat in front of him, something pink and blue. He sipped it, watching Nicky move.

The other bartender showed up not much later, and Nicky sighed with relief, ducking off to the toilets while he had a chance. When he came back, he did a quick run around to pick up dirty glasses, surreptitiously blowing Mark a kiss on the way.

“Hey, sexy. Isn't it a bit late for a nice boy like you to be in a place like this?”

“I'm just waiting for someone.” Mark shrugged, running his finger around the edge of the glass. “He's a bad influence, I know, but for some reason I can't say no.”

“I bet he loves you, though.” Nicky winked. “Get you a snack while you wait? Kitchen's closed, but I'm sure I can rustle up a packet of crisps or something.”

“Salt and vinegar?”

“Coming right up.” Nicky turned, rummaging under the bar. “There you go.” He plonked the packet down. “Another drink?”

“Same again.” Mark pushed the empty glass away. “Drowning my sorrows.”

“What sorrows are those?”

“The ones where all I really want to do is fuck you.”

“That sounds awful.” There was a twinkle in Nicky's eye. “Well, if he doesn't show up, I've got a smoke break in about half an hour.”

“I might take you up on it. Thanks.”

“You just going to sit here all night?” Nicky asked. “I don't get off for another six hours.”

“Dunno. Band's good.” They were, playing plenty of eighties rock and pub standards. They were launching into a Proclaimers song at the moment. “It's easier than going away and coming back.”

“Up to you.” Nicky turned away to actually do his job. There was a bucks party in progress and there were a lot of drunken lads about. A few of them started a bit of a scuffle, but security pulled it apart fairly quickly, looking put-upon but like they'd done this a thousand times. By the time Nicky's break came up everything was fairly chilled, if noisy and full of smoke. Mark coughed slightly, glad for the clearer air when they stepped out the back.

Nicky lit up. Mark glanced at his watch. More or less clockwork.

“What's with the cigarette?” He asked. “I've never seen you smoke otherwise.”

“There's an odd story behind it.” Nicky shrugged, looking at it. He tapped ash off it. “I'll tell you one day.”

“Not now?”

“No.” Nicky shook his head. “Too long for a smoke break, but I will tell you. It's sort of part of a bigger story.” He looked up at Mark. “Some stories are fun to tell. Others...” He took another drag, looked away. “There are a few I don't want you to know. I worry that you might hate me.”

“I couldn't hate you.”

“You could.” Nicky frowned. Mark did too, swaying a little closer. “And it would absolutely break my heart.”

“You can tell me anything.”

“And I will. But not now.” Nicky dropped the cigarette, stamping it out. “Some shit needs to stay in the past until it's been there long enough that it can't come back. Can I have a hug?”

“Of course.” He tugged Nicky in, getting a momentary flash of that night Nicky had said stop. The sudden, frightened tears, the sickening guilt. He ran his hand up a warm back, felt it roll into his touch. “Whatever it is...” He started. Nicky sighed.

“I wish that was true.”

 

*

 

Nicky was starting to look a little more cheerful as the night went on. Mark was getting sleepy, was onto about his fifth mocktail and glad he didn't have to pay for them, though it helped when Nicky mixed up a couple with Red Bull. Nicky was busy, could only get away from time to time to chat, but Mark was happy watching, seeing the way he moved and spoke and smiled at everyone, handled the drunk ones, and bopped along to the band while he was drawing jugs of beer from the taps.

This was much better than last time, watching Kian be all over Mia the Capricorn and throwing up in the men's room sink.

Nicky got him another packet of crisps, then went around to do another glass run, piling them up in a wire rack. Mark helped, carrying the second tray, and Nicky told him not to expect a tip for his efforts, smiling gratefully anyway.

Then, suddenly, he froze, the tray of glasses still in his arms. Mark almost ran into his back.

“Fuck.” He heard Nicky whisper.

“What?” Mark asked, looking around. Nicky turned around suddenly, facing him, juggling the rack with one arm while the other came up to hide his face.

“Move. Back door. Go.”

“But...” He began to stumble backwards.

“No matter what happens...” Nicky's eyes were big and frightened. “You run. You don't get involved.”

“Nicky...”

“Whatever happens. Promise me. We don't even know each other.” Mark swallowed, then nodded. Nicky nodded back, moving towards the back door, nudging Mark ahead. Mark kept walking, not sure what was going on but feeling fright knot his stomach. Nicky wasn't moving fast, but he was moving determinedly. Then, suddenly, he wasn't. Mark looked behind, saw him a few paces back, someone's hand on his arm.

“Nicky fucking Byrne.” There was a big guy there, about a foot taller than Nicky and broad. There was an open smile on his face, but it looked cruel and fake, like a pantomime. His hand was tight on Nicky's shoulder, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. “Haven't seen you in a long time.”

“Scott.” Nicky nodded. “Just on my way out, mate. Sorry.”

“Ah, is that how you talk to old friends?” His green eyes did not look friendly at all. “Come have a drink.”

“It's okay, I have to drive, so...” Nicky tried to pull away. Mark wanted to step in, but then Nicky glanced over his shoulder and he remembered his promise. His feet wanted to move without him, though. Scott took the rack from Nicky's arm, put it down on the bar, and then sat down at a nearby table, not letting go of Nicky's arm. He was pulled into the bigger man's lap a second later. “Let go.”

“Come on, Nico, just wanted to ask you a couple of questions.”

“Text me.” He tried to stand up. “Busy. You know.”

“Quick ones, I promise. Just two.” The hand on his arm tightened. A flinch of pain crossed his boyfriend's face. “Where's my fucking bike?”

“I don't know. Did you lose it?”

“I don't think I did, no.” Scott glared at him. “But one day it was just gone, and on the same day, so were you. Which leads me to question number two.” He leaned in. “Where's my fucking money?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Wrong answer.” Before Mark could move, Scott grabbed Nicky's hair and smashed his face off the table. A second later, a bouncer hit him. Nicky hit the floor with a groan. Mark forgot he was even holding the glasses, just dropped them, barely noticed the crash of breaking glass. He had Nicky up a minute later, dragging him toward the back door.

He got him to the car, looking back over his shoulder to make sure there was no-one following. Nicky was barely conscious, was just slack against his side while Mark tried to support him and unlock the door at the same time. He had Nicky in a minute later, shoved into the passenger seat. He was coughing softly, gurgling in his throat, and Mark thought he was choking for a second. But then he tipped forward a little, an arm coming out to brace himself against the door to the glove compartment, and spat out a mouthful of blood onto the floor.

“Fucking drive.” His voice sounded wrong. “Worry about it once we're out of here.”

“Nicky...”

Nicky looked up at him, his nose a bloody mess, one eye almost shut. Mark didn't know if he wanted to throw up or cry, so he dropped the car into reverse instead, slamming out of the driveway and away into the darkness of the motorway.

 

*

 

Nicky had taken his shirt off on the ride and blown his nose into it, making a low cry of pain while he did. It was held to his face now, looking wet and shiny. Mark shrugged off his suit jacket, handing it over, and Nicky slid it on before leaning forward, bracing himself against the console in front of him, coughing painfully.

He didn't know what to do. He wanted to go to the hospital, but Nicky said absolutely not, so he drove them home instead, helping him carefully out of the car and into his own house. He knew they at least had a first aid kit here, for the plenty of cuts and scrapes he and his brothers had accrued over the years. He got Nicky onto a chair in the kitchen and wetted a tea towel, trying to wipe up some of the blood.

“I think my nose is broken.” Nicky said.

“I think so too.” Mark admitted. It wasn't just that, either. Once the mess was out of the way he could see the white of Nicky's left eye was almost purple with pooling blood. As he watched, Nicky winced, reaching into his mouth. A second later he pulled out a piece of tooth.

“Huh.” His voice sounded surprised, but vague. “That sucks.”

“You need a doctor.”

“I don't.” Nicky swallowed. “Fuck.” He touched his nose gingerly. “That's about fucking right, isn't it? Everything's going so fucking well and...” He took the towel from Mark's hand and held it over his nose. “Get me some ice?”

“Yeah.” When he came back, Nicky was staring straight ahead at nothing. He put a hand on the older lad's knee. He didn't react. He lifted a hand, clicking slightly in front of his eyes, trying to make sure he was still conscious.

“Stop that, it's really annoying.” Mark handed him the ice pack. “Thanks.” It was over his nose a minute later. “Ow.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Oh, that's Scott.” Nicky's laugh was hollow. “Nice lad. Or he was, when I met him. Funny how people change, isn't it?”

“You took his bike?”

“Might have.” Nicky looked at him. It was hard to meet his gaze, especially with his eye all purple. Mark managed it, though, keeping his hand on Nicky's knee, feeling it tremble through his trousers. “Thought it was fair payment.”

“For what?”

Nicky laughed again. Then he coughed. Swallowed. “Fuck. Ow.” He reached out a hand, putting it on Mark's shoulder. “He was a nice guy when I started dating him, you know? Thought I was onto something. I'm seventeen and this gorgeous guy starts paying attention, buying me things. I mean, I thought he was rich but fuck... it wasn't even the start. He's taking me places and treating me well and it's amazing. Telling me he loves me. I'm this stupid kid who's always in trouble and this guy... this guy loves me. He's twelve years older than me and he has his life all sorted out and I'm...” He swallowed again, adjusting the ice on his face.

“How long...?”  
  
“I was with him for about six months.” Nicky said, then looked away. “He started raping me after the first six weeks.”

“Jesus.” Mark felt his heart lurch. He let go of Nicky's knee in surprise, saw Nicky flinch, look hurt, and replaced it, squeezing.

“It wasn't...” Nicky shook his head. “I just wasn't in the mood, you know? One time. Sometimes you're not, but I'm this teenager and I've never really been not in the mood before. You're in a relationship and it eventually stops being about the shagging all the time, but... I mean, you're supposed to love him, so what's the problem? So you do it anyway. Then a few weeks later you're not in the mood again and he does it anyway, says sorry afterwards because he thought you were just being a tease like last time. Then a few months later he's not even asking any more. Or apologising.”

“Nicky...” Mark bit his lip. He wanted to reach out, to hold, but Nicky looked too fragile, with blood spotted down his bare chest, Mark's black suit jacket making him look even paler.

“I did... I did jobs for him. Dropping off bags, taking bags back. I'd have a smoke while I was waiting, just one, because it was late and cold and there was nothing else to do. He'd lend me his bike sometimes. It was easier, because I was a minor so if I got caught... I was helping out. You know, to pay him back for everything he'd done for me. I never touched the drugs, but there was a lot of money changing hands and...”

“You couldn't go to the police?”

“He knew the police. I saw him sell to them, sometimes.” Nicky snorted. “I... I came home one day and he was fucking someone else. Just right there in our living room and... and I got angry and he...” He looked down at the floor. “He punched me, and when I came to he was raping me on the kitchen floor with a knife at my throat.”

“Fuck.” Mark exhaled. “I...” He swallowed hard, forcing back tears. “I'm sorry.”

“I did the drop that night with a black eye. Passed the bag off, got the bag back and it... it was a big one. One hundred and eighty thousand euro in a sports bag, all wrapped up in black plastic and electrical tape and I... I just...” He swallowed. “I ran. I sold his bike for another eleven thousand, bought a cheaper one and just kept... going. Kept moving around until I thought he wouldn't find me. I thought about getting on a plane or a boat, going to England, but I didn't have any paperwork, no I.D. I didn't even have my own bank account. I wasn't allowed to, not by the end. Which I guess has sort of worked out, in a way, made it harder for him to find me, but...” He reached down, dug into his sock and pulled out the roll of money Mark had seen that day in Donegal. “This is all that's left. Couldn't get a mortgage, not with no history or identification. I mean, I'm eighteen fucking years old. Who gives a house loan to an eighteen year old? I just found the owner and paid cash for it. He wanted it off his hands and didn't ask any questions. I'd been on the run for about two months when I got here. Thought I'd given him the slip, but...”

“How did he find you?”

“Not sure.” Nicky shook his head. “I thought I saw someone I recognised, one of his lads, when we were having lunch in Donegal that time but I didn't think they'd seen me. He knows a lot of people. It could have been someone at the bar. Could have been anyone.” He looked up at Mark. “I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay. It's...” He reached out, putting a hand on Nicky's cheek. “What do we do?”

“You don't do anything.” Nicky said softly. “I have to run.”

“But...”

“No. He'll find me. He's too close and I... I won't let him find you. He's crazy, okay? I once watched him stab a guy in the thigh because he'd short-changed him on a deal. Didn't even threaten, just picked up the knife and slammed it down in the middle of a conversation. He'll hurt you if he thinks... He'll hurt your family. I have to be gone before he gets here.”

“No.” Mark felt tears spring to his eyes. Nicky pulled him in for a hug. Mark began to cry, his heart finally overflowing from the panic of the day, like a switch had flicked in his soul. Nicky held him, kissing his ear. “Don't. We'll hide you. We'll...”

“No. You never knew me, okay? You never saw me. I was just that weird neighbour you never spoke to.”

“People saw you... at my party, at the dance and...”

“Must've been some other lad.”

“There's no other lad.” Mark held him tighter. “There's only you.”

“Right back atcha.” Nicky murmured. “I'll come back. I'll find a way back to you. I promise. He's not going to keep me away.”

“Then stay.”

“No.” Nicky pulled away, a hand coming out to brush Mark's hair off his forehead. His nose looked awful, crooked and spread slightly to the left. There were tears in his blackened eyes. “No. Don't cry, or I'll cry, and then I won't be able to see the road.” He gulped back a low sob. “I'm so sorry.”

“Nicky...”

“You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and one day you're going to be amazing.” A kiss touched his forehead. “Just... live, okay? Don't stay here. Don't try to find me.”

“I...”

“Don't.” Nicky said firmly. “I'll find you. Somehow, I will. I'm not done with you yet, kiddo.” Mark had to laugh at that, got a crooked smile. Nicky stood. He was still wearing Mark's jacket. Mark didn't ask for it back. The rose in the buttonhole was starting to get wilted, not nearly as crisp as it had been when Nicky had pinned it on so many hours ago. “I love you.” He murmured, pulling him in for a last hug. Mark held tight, trying to breathe him in. “I'll see you round.”

“You'd better.” Mark managed.

 

*

 

When dawn broke he was sitting on the stairs of his front porch. Had been for hours, since Nicky's bike had disappeared the same way it had come in the first time, with Nicky on it and nothing but the clothes on his back. He'd listened, waiting until he was sure he couldn't hear it any more, imagined he still could, even just a little, imagined it would get louder again as Nicky came back, just like he had every single night. Stared up at Nicky's window, imagining him moving behind the curtains, silhouetted against the bedroom light.

When his father found him, he realised for the first time that Nicky's blood was on his shirt.

He didn't know what to say, so he said everything, breaking down before he was even past the first sentence. His father put a hand on his shoulder, then held him while he cried, until the sunlight was hot on his black trousers and shining off the specks of blood on his shoes.

Then they went inside. His father hugged his brothers, spoke to his mother, and Mark went to bed, crying until he ran out of the energy to stay awake.

 

*

 

A man knocked on Nicky's door a few days later. Then he came over to theirs. His father answered, one hand hiding behind the doorframe on the rifle he used for keeping foxes out of the chicken coop. He said he'd done a bit of building for the lad across the street, but hadn't had much to do with him otherwise, that he kept to himself. Mark sat at the kitchen table with his mother, head in his hands. The door closed. Then the three of them sat at the table together in silence, listening to a car drive away.

 

*

 

“Mark...”

He looked up. His mother was on the couch while he read a book. She was turning the television up. Just afternoon news, it looked like.

“ _...two people dead in a road incident on the N17... police are looking for any witnesses to the accident, which claimed the life of two motorcyclists. It is believed they were driving erratically, and some bystanders say they may have been racing...”_

“It's probably not...” She started. Then the footage kicked in. A black and silver Kawasaki, almost twisted in half. And, nearby, what looked like a badly wilted red rose.

Mark ran.

By the time he made it to the lough, he was almost blind with tears, his chest on fire. He sank down in the mud, shrieking into his hands.

 

*

 

Graduation was fine. Mark sat, waiting for his name to be called, went up, took his certificate, sat back down. His parents hugged him. The marks were in. He could go anywhere he wanted. The first acceptance letters had started showing up in the post. Trinity and DCU. Dublin.

He went over to Nicky's house. Nobody had been there since he'd left. Mark managed to get a back window open and climbed in, sank down cross-legged on the floor. Everything was still there. He went up to Nicky's bedroom once he felt he had the energy to climb the stairs. He lay on the bed, trying to find Nicky's scent, trying to find the smell of them together. There was a make-up brush on the dresser, a t-shirt on the floor, a towel on the back of the door. Pieces of him, like heartbreak, spread through the room. He climbed under the sheets and slept for a long time, and when he woke he had a shower, scrubbing Nicky's soap into his skin.

When he got home, his mother pointed to a parcel that had arrived for him.

A red leather motorcycle jacket, in his size, with white leather angel wings stitched down the back. There was a note in the pocket.

_Happy graduation, Teen Angel._

_I'll always find you._

“Mam...” He felt a lump fill his throat, choking on sudden, desperate hope. His mother gasped, looking at the box. Then her face fell and she pointed at the post-date.

The day before the accident.

He sat down, hugging the jacket to his chest and salting it with tears.

 


	15. Epilogue

“I hope being eighteen doesn't make you think you're a grown-up.” Kian joked, nudging him lightly with an elbow. Mark laughed, nudging him back. It was weird, being able to walk into a bar and order a drink for himself. Kian had bought a round of beers for him and a bunch of their uni friends. After a year, it was strange to think that he was still at school with Kian, waiting for their exams to come around. It was an odd sense of deja vu.

This last year had been okay. He'd chosen Trinity, in the end. He'd thought about deferring for six months, but after Nicky had died it was too hard to sit there every day and stare at the empty house. It was still empty, as far as he knew. Nicky had owned it, and there was nobody to sell it on, no inheritors, so there it sat. Sometimes when Mark went home he'd climb in the back window again and lay on Nicky's bed, trying to find the memory of his scent. It felt old now, and cold without him there. An empty shell without that pouting smirk, those easy laughs and stupid, quiet moments. Fingers on his skin and a head on his shoulder and a hand in his.

Kian was doing education too, specialising in drama and music. Mark was still kicking around, having a go at a few different things, though he suspected he was going to settle on History or Religious Studies, maybe French and English.

People kept asking if he had a motorcycle. He said no, laughed slightly, and tugged his jacket tighter around him. He still had the car, though he'd had to put mats over the bloodstain on the floor in front of the passengers seat. He knew he should have replaced the carpet, but it felt too much like removing Nicky, removing the last tangible evidence of his existence. He thought that was probably a bit creepy, and then realised he didn't really give a fuck.

“Another?”

“Love one, thanks.” Mark nodded. Kian got up, going up to the bartender. They left an hour or so later. There was a gay bar up the road that did karaoke and drag shows, and Kian insisted. Mark appreciated the support – Kian was always trying to fix him up with guys – but he really wasn't interested. It felt wrong, looking at someone else. Hollow in his chest. Kian said maybe it was time he moved on, but it wasn't about that. Nobody else could fit the space that had been left, and there was no use trying. He'd thought about it, had drunkenly snogged a bloke at a party a few months ago, but it hadn't worked. Nothing worked without Nicky here.

“Here we go. Bloke central.” Kian announced, leading him in. “I'll be your wingman, if you like.”  
  
“Thanks, but... I'll just have a drink.” Mark laughed, shaking his head. “You want to play snooker or something?” He gestured at the table.

Kian did, so they did that until the place started to get busy, drinking cocktails and laughing easily. It had been hard to do this, at the beginning, but he'd made himself get up and out. Knew nothing was going to change, otherwise. And Nicky would be annoyed if he didn't, say he was wasting his potential. Then he would have kissed him on the cheek, told him he was fucking lovely, and roared away on his motorbike, winking over his shoulder. Because that was what Nicky did.

What Nicky had done.

He made himself smile when Kian plonked down next to him. There was a drag show on later, apparently. Mark sort of wanted to be out here before that started, didn't know if he could stomach it. Not after...

“A lad in the toilets just asked if I was a top or bottom.”

“That's nice.” Mark laughed. “What did you say?”

“I said neither. He asked if I wanted my dick sucked.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, but not by him.” Kian grinned. “You reckon any of these girls are at least bisexual? Maybe I could take two of them home.”

“What, back to our dorm?” Mark laughed. “Classy. Bryan'll love you shagging a girl on the bunk above him.”

“He's always doing it on the bunk below.” Kian shrugged. “Payback.”

“You won't fit two in there.”

“I'll make it work. You underestimate me.”

“I do.” Mark agreed, reaching out to put an arm around his shoulders. “Thanks, Ki.”

“For what?”

“Just... not being as much of a dickhead as I always think you are.”

“Thanks? I think?” Kian raised an eyebrow. He glanced at his watch. “It's after midnight. Not your birthday any more.”

“Have I stopped being special?”

“You were never special.” Kian joked. “But it's your turn to buy a round, now that it's not your birthday.” He gestured up to the bar. “Off you go.”

“If you want something stiff, just go back to the lad in the toilets.” Mark teased, but he was already standing up. “What would you like?”

“Get me the gayest drink they have.” Kian decided. “I'm blending in.”

“Sure you are.” Mark began to walk away, shaking his head. He leaned on the bar. There were a couple of 'girls' there serving. He smiled at one, wondering what Nicky would think of her make-up job. She served him, but when he went to sit back down, Kian was missing. He looked around, trying to figure it out.

“Your mate left.” He heard a voice over his shoulder and turned. There was a girl there, dressed in a long red number and a short black wig, face fairly plastered in slap. Nicky would definitely appreciate this one. Classy, not over-the-top. “He said I could have the other one.”

“Nice try, love.” Mark winked. She laughed, low and hoarse. He looked around, but there was still no sign, and hell, he was a bit tipsy. “You know what? If he wanted it, he would have hung around. Here you go.” She took it, smiling gratefully. “You with the entertainment?”

“Nope, just visiting. I like your jacket.”

“Thanks.” He looked down at himself. “Someone bought it for me.”

“Special someone?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, sipping his drink.

“Should be careful on motorcycles.” The girl nodded. “Knew a bloke once, was getting chased by this ex-boyfriend and a wanker riding bitch-seat, and they skidded out when his front brake locked. Wrecked the bikes, and the arseholes went under a lorry, but at least he was able to leg it down the hill before the garda got there. Made a clean getaway, not having any identification and all.”

“I...” Mark's mouth felt dry, all of a sudden. He licked his lips, tried to swallow. Tried to figure out how drunk he actually was. “What...” He swallowed again. “What happened next?”

“Kept hitching up the road, waited for it all to blow over. Sort of had to, the amount of people that were in business with this fucking arsehole, but I think he's laid low long enough, you know? Got a job, a couple of new wigs. Shaved his head, even, which was the worst part, though he looked a bit different once he got his nose set.”

Blue eyes sparkled. Mark realised, suddenly, that the girl's lips were mostly make-up, that they were thin and pouting.

“Kept an eye on his boyfriend, though. I mean, love of his life, right? And your lad doesn't turn eighteen every day.”

“I... I turned eighteen yesterday.”

She glanced at her watch. “So you did. Sorry I missed it.”

“This isn't real.”

“It is, a bit.” Nicky laughed, a perfect Nicky laugh. Mark tried to keep his legs under him.

A hand slipped into his, gripped it tight.

“Fuck.” Mark whispered. Nicky leaned in.

“Just so you know, I'm still going to grab your arse.” He whispered.

Then they were kissing, Mark's hand on the back of Nicky's neck.

 


End file.
